


Papillon - Part II

by lumoxy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beauxbatons, Beauxbatons!Draco, Drarry, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2019-10-13 21:49:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 105,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17496011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumoxy/pseuds/lumoxy
Summary: How will Draco and Harry be able to maintain their relationship when at different schools, living away from each other? Discover how the original Harry Potter story continues with a French!Draco.-Alright, so here's the second part to Papillon! These chapters will be written for those of you who are curious to know how the story will continue after year 4. I just adore my French!Draco and therefore want to explore his character a little more and see where my fantasy will take him throughout the rest of the story.Again I'd like to point out that my mother language isn't English and that my French also isn't the BEST. Therefore be gentle with me and if there are any mistakes; be free to help me correct them! :)Updates might be less frequent compared to the first part of Papillon, but I hope you'll support the story with an equal amount of enthusiasm! Have fun reading!





	1. L'avertissement

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this chapter exists out of letters exchanged by the boys (just a few, not all of them as they probably wrote way too many to each other). There will probably be a lot of these letters in future chapters as well, as the boys will be separated from each other a lot. Also, there aren't many French words in Draco's letters as he really focusses on his English when writing, other than his spontaneous French words popping up when he speaks! And also don't get confused, if you perhaps forgot, but 'James' is Harry's pseudonym to keep Lucius from being the curious, Pureblood father that he is *sigh*.  
> I really hope you like this chapter written from Harry's perspective! It's not as intricate as Draco's always are, as I believe Harry doesn't over-detail things like Draco does.

 

**_C H A P T E R 1 1_ **

_My beloved James,_

_Ever since I returned home, I feel like things have changed. Papa has changed mostly, of course. My predictions have come true as well; we're staying at the Manor in England for the entire summer. It's cold here even though it's so warm outside and I can't help but hear my ancestor's souls whisper vile things to me. Perhaps they're all mad I'm in love with you, and not with a Pureblood girl like all of them were expecting._

_Maman is holding together somehow, but she is frightened as well. We talk almost daily about the situation, about his return, and try to prepare ourselves for the worst. Papa has been visiting the Ministry more often than usual; my guess is that they are planning to do something there again, like they tried last time. I don't know much about it yet, as I avoid papa the most of all, but I'll keep you updated._

_The house-elves are nice to me, though. They make delicious French dishes and bring me hot chocolate whenever the Manor's getting too cold. It's weird, don't you think, how it can be so cold here even though it's summer? Oh, wait. I told you that before in this letter, haven't I? Anyway, I hope you're not melting away in this extreme heat because I have a higher chance of turning into an ice sculpture._

_Just know that I miss you a lot; your green eyes and that beautiful smile of yours. I promise I will try to visit soon, but I can't say exactly when. Perhaps next time when papa leaves the house on a trip to the Ministry; that way he won't notice it when I'm gone._

_Yours truly,_

_Draco_

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_Dear Draco,_

_Little Whinging is indeed very hot; I don't know what the weather's like around that Manor of yours but the Dursleys their house is nowhere near a temperature to cool one down. I might eventually melt, indeed, must this weather last any longer._

_I find it strange that I haven't received any letters from my friends beside from yours. Of course, I couldn't be happier to read your letters but I wonder why my friends aren't sending me any? Would someone be stealing them away from me? In second year there was this house-elf named Dobby that stole them from me, tried to keep me away from Hogwarts but I don't believe that's the cause this time. Would they be upset about something?_

_Dudley, my cousin if you remember my stories about him, has been mostly avoiding me this summer as he has become afraid of my magic. I haven't told anyone I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school; it's a great advantage when you live in a family like mine._

_I really hope you can come visit me somewhere this summer. I can't really invite you in to meet my family; I think they would kick your right out. But we could go for a walk or just stay in my room; as long as they don't notice._

_Also, I'm having these terrible nightmares about June's events almost every night; they haunt me out of my sleep and wake me up at strange hours. I believe I shout as well and I truly wish I could cast a silencing charm on my room to keep the Dursleys from grumbling at me in the morning._

_If you can, and I don't say you have to, could you send me more Chocolate Frogs? I really enjoyed the ones you sent me last time; it filled the hollow stomach of an underfed child._

_With love,_

_James_

 

_☾ *:･ﾟ✧_

 

_My beloved James,_

_How glad I am that we're using a pseudonym to hide your true identity; papa had found one of your letters. He was a bit confused by it, asking who this James was, but I've told him that you're just a friend I met at Hogwarts. A Pureblood, I lied. He didn't ask for your last name and also didn't read the Muggle name of you family as he didn't see the envelope. And not to worry, it was a letter where you only complained about the weather and how extremely bored you were; no names of people nor places were written in that one._

_He knows, by the way, about our relationship at Hogwarts. I knew he would find out sooner or later, as he has so many connections, but he thinks it's over — that it was nothing special, really. I even told him people were overreacting; that we didn't kiss at all or anything._

_It was a bit scary to see him suddenly so obsessed, so driven when hearing that his son was so intimately close with the Dark Lord's greatest desire; you. I'm glad I'm a good liar, otherwise you were probably on Riddle's menu tonight._

_So not to worry, he thinks I'm in love with James now. I hope you're not too jealous, my darling. And also, a very happy birthday to you; enjoy all the candy I sent with this letter._

_Yours truly,_

_Draco_

 

_☾ *:･ﾟ✧_

 

_Dear Draco,_

_It worries me that your father knows about your affaire with this Potter. He doesn't think much of it, I hope? And indeed, I don't remember seeing you kissing the fellow either. Such liars at Hogwarts, am I right?_

_I still haven't received any letters from my friends; they seem to have disappeared from the world somehow. My letters were delivered, I know that as my owl never returns them, but it's strange, don't you think? It's almost as if they're avoiding me or something._

_How's staying at the Manor? I hope you're not too cold, as you told me in your letters. Perhaps you should go out more often, embrace the heat for a few minutes to warm you up. Though, I guess you won't as there's probably a reason why you're so pale._

_There's nothing much left to tell you, really; it's extremely boring here in Little Whinging and I don't have any local friends. If the heat doesn't kill me this summer, I'm sure it'll be the boredom._

_With love,_

_James_

 

_☾ *:･ﾟ✧_

 

_Harry_

 

Four steps forwards, three to each side. Arms stretched out — perhaps two times. Hands in the air, jump up high. Yes, Harry could just reach the ceiling with his finger tips. At least this room was better than the Cupboard under the stairs.

A wooden desk pushed against a window was loaded with letters, their ribbons and waxed crests scattered in between them. Every one of them started with 'my beloved James'; all were from Draco. He had received many letters from his French angel, but non of his friends; and it worried him. _What if there was something wrong? Did perhaps Voldemort have something to do with it?_ He had also written long letters to Sirius, explaining everything that had happened the past year, but every response he got had been short, only a few sentences long and very prompt. It was as if everyone who mattered to him, beside from Draco, were avoiding him.

'Harry!' a voice then shouted, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. 'Go outside! The weather's nice and Dudley is out as well!' It was aunt Petunia, always bothering herself with Harry's life that she didn't even want to be a part of.

Harry grumbled a response and dragged himself down the stairs, passed his aunt fanning herself with a magazine and uncle Vernon slowly melting away on the couch. August the second marked the hottest day of the year, and it was clearly noticeable. He sauntered down the street, past the old lady from across who never stopped talking about her cats. She waved at him while strolling along, back to her cat-filled home. As he neared the small park in Magnolia Crescent, he could already spot his cousin and his friends from afar. They were teasing a child again, probably asking for his money or just annoying him out of boredom. Harry sighed, knowing that he couldn't do much about it as his nephew was twice his size. _If only I could use my magic_ , he thought as he sat down on one of the swings. He reached in his pocket and took out Draco's last letter. He had read it already ten times since it had arrived the day before, but it confused him greatly; it wasn't like the other letters. It almost sounded like a warning.

_Dear James,_

_I don't have much time to write you what I know in much detail, but I do know that they're after you. If you're wondering how I know; I overheard a conversation with papa and a woman from the Ministry. Something is going to happen, James. Something bad. I don't know what; I don't know when and I certainly don't know where. But I heard your name drop in their conversation, and it didn't sound very good. They talked about wanting to silence you, and I bet it has to do with the return of the Dark Lord._

_Papa also keeps talking about this prophecy, of which I have no idea if it has something to do with you as well or not. But you have to watch out and be careful; you never know when dark magic will show up._

_I will shortly leave the Manor, but to where I cannot tell you. I do promise we will meet again soon, before the start of the new school year._

_Yours truly,_

_Draco_

What was Draco referring to, Harry wondered. What was going to happen, what were they planning? How were they going to silence him? They couldn't just barge into the Dursleys their home and obliviate him just like that, could they? And where was Draco off to? For the second time that day, his thoughts got interrupted by his Muggle family. This time it was Dudley who had come more near with his friends, acting all tough but actually looking like complete idiots.

'My cousin’s quite mad, you see,' he explained to his friends. 'Keeps shouting in his sleep not to kill a fellow named Cedric. _Please, don't kill him! Don't kill Cedric!'_ Mimicking a voice to make his friends laugh, he snatched Draco's letter out of Harry's hands. 'What’s this? A letter from Cedric your boyfriend?'

Harry clenched his jaw as he tried to maintain his anger. _It's just Dudley,_ he reminded himself. _He always acts that way_. 'Give it back, Dudley!'

Dudley glanced at his friends over his shoulder, whom were still laughing. 'No, I think I'll keep it. Let me see — _yours truly, Draco._ You have two boyfriends now, Harry?' His friends laughed even louder as they took a peek at the letter over Dudley's shoulder. 'He writes that you're in danger. I don't know about that, but I know that his letter is.' Without hesitation Dudley tore the letter in two, the sound of it's rupture welling up the anger Harry had tried to suppress so greatly.

'Give it back,' Harry demanded as he jumped off the swing.

'No,' Dudley replied, crumbling the letter in his fist and making a ball out of it. 'I'll tell mum and dad that you're receiving letters from your boyfriend; bet they'll put those bars right back on your window and finally get rid of that owl of yours.'

'He has an owl?' one of his friends asked, grinning even louder.

'He does,' Dudley snorted. 'A big, white, _ugly_ bird that keeps hooting me out of my sleep.'

Harry had drawn his wand without realizing, taken a step closer to his cousin and positioned the wood against his throat. Dudley's friends were almost on the ground of laughter, unaware of the existence of Wizards — but Dudley himself turned pale in a second and looked terrified. 'Shut your mouth, Dudley!'

His complaints about Hedwig weren't the only reason he had upset him so greatly; the tearing of Draco's letter, the mocking about Cedric's death — it had all been too much for Harry to handle in this extreme heat — but then it suddenly turned cold. Too cold. A cold he could feel to his bones and darkened the sky. The bright sun had faded away, was replaced by clouds of blue and grey. It looked as if it was about to rain, a million teardrops would fall down upon Magnolia Crescent's park. A wind blew past them and made the swings squeak in a macabre way.

Dudley's friends ran away, afraid of the sudden turn of nature and Harry lowered his wand out of confusion; and out of fear. He knew what this feeling, this cold could be caused by — but he couldn't believe it. 'What have you done?' Dudley demanded, blaming Harry for whatever was happening.

'I haven't done anything,' Harry replied, looking around. 'But we have to go — we have to go _now!_ '

And as they ran back, through that dark tunnel, Harry realized that what was happening was what Draco had wanted to warn him for; dark magic was surrounding him and his cousin. _Dementors_ , more specific, were surrounding them.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

How could this all be happening? Not only had he been attacked by Dementors, saved his cousin's life but still got the blame for his pain, suspended from Hogwarts, called to the Wizengamot and now was locked up again in his room at Privet Drive number four.

It had all happened so fast, all in such a hurry and a blur that it was hard for Harry to believe it had actually happened. He lay on his back, his head sunken in his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He held Draco's timepiece in his hand, wondered when Draco would reply to the letter he had sent only an hour ago. With frustration, worry and wonder Harry had penned down all his thoughts and experiences of the past events; of how Draco's prediction for trouble had come true.

He watched the seconds tick away as the moonlight shone on it's glass surface. It had acted strange a few times before that summer, the big hand pointing at the wrong hour only to point back at the right one shortly after. And as Harry thought about its weird behavior — it suddenly did so again. The big hand shot to a spot between one and two, trembling slightly. Harry frowned as he sat up straight, legs swung to the side. Immediately the big hand pointed at the number nine and as Harry followed it's direction, he noticed it was pointing at his door. He rose from his bed and spun around in his room like a mad person, keeping his eyes on the timepiece and noticing that it kept moving along with the direction of the door. As he came to a halt, head still spinning and a dizzy feeling making him the tiniest bit nauseous, he heard a rumbling sound, followed by grumbled French words. ' _Serrure stupide — maison de Non-Magique — aha!'_

A clicking sound followed as he remained frozen to the spot, his heart beating in his ears as he knew all too well to whom that voice belonged to. His bedroom door swung open and revealed a tall boy, dressed in blue silk from head to toe with a golden wand at hand. A grey eye glanced at him from underneath a hat and a grin graced his lips especially for Harry to see. 'Draco,' Harry stammered, not quite believing that he was actually there.

' _Monsieur_ Potter. How lovely to see you again,' Draco replied, grin widening as Harry wrapped his arms around him. He even lifted the tall boy a bit and squeezed all the life out of him. Looking up into his grey, twinkling eyes he couldn’t resist the urge any longer to kiss that grin off his face. How much he had missed kissing those soft lips; it was as if he had been separated from half of his soul for two months and now was finally reunited with it again.

‘You have _no_ idea how much I missed you,' Harry told him.

Draco gave him a bewildered look and Harry noticed his hat had fallen off, exposing his ever so beautiful silver hair. It had grown a bit during the summer and now reached a length where the ends curled around his ears. The perfectionist he was, he had styled it perfectly into a sleek hairstyle; one that wouldn’t be messed up so easily no matter how hard Harry would try. ‘I missed you as well, mon lion.’

Draco kissed him again, a warmth filling his insides as he felt the blond's long fingers tangle themselves in his hair. How much he had missed that feeling as well. The touch of silk beneath his fingers, the strong scent of lemons. He pulled away again but kept his eyes locked in those of his beloved one. ‘But — what on earth are you doing here?'

A new grin appeared on Draco face. 'I'm here to take you away, of course.'

'Take me away? To where?' Harry frowned his eyebrows as he went through every possible option in his head. Hogwarts? The Burrow? Draco wouldn't take him to the Manor, would he?

'You'll see,' Draco replied and bent through his knees to pick up his hat again. Putting it back on in the most elegant way, he looked around Harry's room. 'We'll have to pack all your things, _tout_.' With a flick of his golden wand, all of Harry's stuff gathered themselves in his trunk and with a clicking sound it closed, Hedwig's cage atop of it and everything.

'I thought minors weren't allowed to use magic outside of school?' Harry noted.

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Not in your own country, _non_. In England I can use magic whenever I want as long as it aren't dueling spells. Beside, I'm a Pureblood and _papa_ has Ministry connections; so not to worry about me, Harry,' Draco replied with a tone as if it was obvious. 'Now, come on — we don't have all night.'

With footsteps as light as feathers they descended the stairs with Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage levitating behind them. Draco led the way as if he was the one who lived at the Dursleys' since he was born and not Harry, remembering the way perfectly. He murmured things about how hideous and tasteless the decoration was before unlocking the front door, pushing Harry out of the house into one of Petunia's flower beds. 'How are we getting away from here? The Knight Bus?' Harry asked.

Draco shook his head. ' _Non_ , I have arranged something better.' Out of the pocket of his robes he retrieved two miniature size brooms, threw them in the air and casted an _engorgio_ on them. Back to their original size, they floated a few inches above the ground, waiting to be flown. 'Ever flew above London, _mon amour_? I heard the views are spectacular.'

' _London_? We're going to bloody London?' Harry asked, bewildered as he took one of the brooms.

' _Oui,_ didn't I just say so?' Draco took a broom himself, acting so naturally as if he had been practicing over the summer. It filled Harry's heart with joy to see that the thing he once feared so much had now become one of his greatest pleasures. 'Just follow me, _ok_?'

Harry nodded. 'But, what about my trunk and the cage?'

Draco waved his words away and took ahold of his broom more steadily. 'Not to worry, Harry — they'll follow along.' And he took off, shooting up towards the sky as if he was a professional Quidditch player. Harry grinned as he took off as well, quickly caught up with Draco and looked down upon the roofs of Little Whinging's houses. Black squares, all the same. Tiny specks of light, almost like Christmas decorations. The wind blew in his face, a cold wind that he had missed ever since the start of summer. 

He glanced at Draco whom was smiling brightly, holding his hat with one hand to stop it from getting blown off. 'Only _you_ would wear a hat when flying a broom!' Harry shouted at him, hoping that Draco would hear him midst the cries of the wind.

'Priorities, Harry! _Priorities_!' Draco shouted back, making Harry laugh as they zoomed further through the night sky.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They were frozen to the bone by the time they arrived in London, their legs stiff and their ears burning from the wind's cold. They landed on a square, only dimly lit by streetlamps. Houses with crooked windows and paint peeling off their doors were lined up in rows, not really giving Harry the welcoming feeling he had expected. 'Are we here?' he asked Draco, who was trying to smooth out the wrinkles from his robes.

' _Oui_.' The blond took a few steps forward, lifted his golden wand and pointed it at the line that separated number eleven from number thirteen. He then whispered something Harry couldn't hear, and as nothing happened and no spell was casted from his wand, Harry started to think that whatever he had whispered had failed. Then the ground underneath his feet suddenly started to shake, the houses in front of him moving aside to make place for another house; for missing number twelve. It looked even more crooked, grim and old than the other houses and certainly even less inviting. Harry glanced at Draco in wonder, once again surprised and enchanted by the magic of the Wizarding World. Draco just grinned, like he always did, and gestured with his hand for Harry to enter.

A bit hesitant Harry opened the front door, whispers following shortly after. He immediately looked around, took in the place he had just entered. The hallway was dark, the wallpaper tearing off slowly as if spirits were trying to crawl from behind it. He flinched slightly when Draco closed the door behind them, the loud sound interrupting his observations. A few portraits were hung against the walls, Wizards and Witches dressed in black throwing glares at him. He flinched once again when Draco hit something, grumbled French words as he kicked something that looked like a troll's foot only to hurt his toe again. _'Un porte-parapluie troll — dégoûtant!’_

Harry could only laugh at Draco's mocking and heard the whispers go silent. One of the hallway's doors opened with a load creak and the freckled face of Molly Weasley showed up behind it. A bright smile graced her lips as she opened her arms wide, walked over the Harry and hugged him to near-death. 'Harry!' she called out. 'You're finally here!' She gave a peck on Harry's cheek before noticing Draco behind him, looking a bit lost. 'And mister Malfoy, I see you're here as well.'

'And I would like to know why.' Arthur Weasley appeared behind his wife, hands in his sides and pulling a strict face which Harry had never seen him pull before.

‘Oh, Arthur shut your mouth,’ Molly interfered. ‘He is nothing like his father — aren’t you, my boy?’

Before Draco could answer, Arthur opened his mouth again. ‘That doesn’t explain why he’s here; he’s not a member of the Order.’

Harry frowned. What was Arthur talking about? ‘The Order?’ he asked out of confusion. Molly seemed panicked by the mention of the word, looked at her husband over her shoulder. Arthur looked guilty as if he had said something he shouldn't have. The man opened his mouth again to come up with an excuse, _probably_ , but got interrupted by another familiar voice.

‘Another time Harry,' Sirius said. Leaning against the doorframe of the room which the Weasleys had appeared from, he opened his arms to welcome his godson.

‘Sirius!' Harry called out, hugging the man he had missed so much. It felt amazing to finally be reunited again with the people he loved so dearly. All those boring summer days he had to spent with the Dursleys last month hadn't been for nothing.

‘Harry, it’s so nice to see you again,' Sirius said to him. His dark eyes were sparkling and Harry noticed he had gained some weight since he'd last seen him. 'And I must admit it’s my fault that mister Malfoy is here; I invited him to come.’

Harry glanced at Draco over his shoulder, who had a weak smile on his face. He seemed a bit nervous, almost shy which was an emotion Harry thought the boy didn't possess. ‘But why?’

‘Well, someone mentioned him a lot in his letters and I figured you could use something, or someone in this case, to warm your heart for the upcoming cold days,' Sirius explained. He winked, and Harry wasn't sure wether it was meant for him or Draco. Perhaps for both.

‘You’re amazing, Sirius!’ Another hug was given before Molly finally pulled Harry away from his godfather.

‘Now, now; you’re looking starved, Harry. And you as well mister Malfoy.’ She glanced between the two boys, a glance that came accompanied with a head-shake.

‘ _S'il vous plaît,_ call me Draco, _madame_ Weasley,' Draco then said with a small, hesitant voice.

‘Alright then, but only if you call me Molly as well. Chop chop, up the stairs with the two of you so I can cook you both some dinner.'

Harry and Draco got pushed up the stairs, following the dark, wooden steps up many floors. They passed by beheaded house-elves, displayed on shelves and more vile-looking portraits. The more up they went, the louder new whispers resounded in his ears. As they neared the end of the staircase, Harry could finally make up to whom the whispers belonged to. Ron and Hermione were sitting on a bed in the middle of the room, talking to each other animately before noticing Harry's entrance. Hermione immediately rose to wrap her arms around her friend, a look of worry on her face. 'Harry!' she called out, drawing back and giving him a smile. 'How are you?'

But Harry only felt mad, felt abandoned and left out of something. How could they ask how he was when he had been worried all summer, had waited for his letters to be answered when they were here, together, chilling on a bed and talking about — about _something_. 'Not one letter,' he decided to spit out right away. 'You haven't replied to any of my letters nor sent me one yourselves.'

It seemed to pain Hermione as she took a step back, looked at Ron in a worrying manner. 'It's not like we didn't want to, mate; they forbid us,' Ron explained. 'It's the Order that told us not to tell you anything.'

That _Order_ again; what was it anyway? And why couldn't he know what it was? 'But now I'm here — so tell me!' Harry felt his rage reach a new height, saw his friends' worrying looks increase as they glanced at each other, unsure of what to do.

He then felt a hand on his shoulder. 'Calm down, Harry. I'm sure they'll tell you soon enough,' Draco told him.

It calmed Harry but seemed to provoke Ron as he jumped off the bed now as well. 'What's he doing here?' His finger pointed in Draco's direction as he glared at the blond. 'He's a Malfoy; he's not on _our_ side!'

In less than a second Draco had drawn his wand again, pointed its intricate golden tip at Harry's best friend. ' _Ta geule_ , Weasel!' The calmness he had wanted Harry to remain, he himself hadn't been able to keep. He looked furious all of the sudden, as if old wounds had been opened with the slightest mention of his last name and that of the _wrong_ side.

Ron frowned his eyebrows and quickly looked at Hermione over his shoulder. 'You can't use magic outside of school! You're a minor just like us,' he declared.

Draco sneered as he took a step closer to Ron, his wand almost touching the boy's chest. 'Let's find out wether I can't, shall we?'

The way they glared into each other's eyes could make lightning erupt from it, set the whole room on fire. Harry had never seen something quite like it before; not even when he was defending his friends from that blond Slytherin at school or when he saw teachers in a heated conversation. Perhaps it was a Pureblood thing; and the Malfoys and Weasleys were known to be quite the opposite. 'Stop it,' Hermione interrupted. 'Especially you, Ron.'

Ron turned himself towards Hermione with a look of betrayal. ' _What_? You're taking _his_ side?'

'I'm taking no-one's side, Ronald Weasley — but you should be careful as Draco _can_ use magic here,' she explained.

'He — he can?' Ron stammered, glancing from Hermione to Draco and back.

'Yes, he can,' Harry admitted, pushing Draco's wand-holding hand down and getting a look of squinted eyes from the blond in return. 'But he can't use any dueling spells. Aren't I right, Draco?'

Draco sighed, defeated, as he shook his head. 'Doesn't mean I won't defend myself if necessary.'

'There's no need to defend yourself,' Harry said as he turned himself towards his friends. 'You both know that he's on our side, right?' He tried to read their eyes but they both looked away as if afraid to let him see that they weren't so sure of which side Draco was on; as if they still believed he was as mad as his father. It made him angry again, but he suppressed the feeling. 'At least Draco sent me letters,' he concluded before leaving the room, pulling Draco by his sleeve with him.

'Harry, we—,’ Hermione began but Harry waved her words away before pushing Draco into another room and following him, closing the door behind them.

'Can you believe them? They don't even trust you! It's not like you have changed since June, have you?' Harry turned himself around to look at Draco, but noticed his eyes were cast upon something other than him, and as he followed them, he found out they weren't the only ones in the room. Two beds were positioned against the east wall, with a woman with bright pink hair on one of them.

'Do go on, Harry James Potter. Spill that tea,' the woman said, grinning more with each word.

Surprised, Harry was lost for words for a few seconds. 'And you are?' Harry asked after his vocabulary slowly returned again.

The woman rose from the bed and reached out a hand for Harry to shake. 'Nymphadora Tonks — but _please_ , just call me Tonks.'

'Alright — Tonks. Are you also a member of this _Order_?'

Tonks nodded. 'I am indeed, but I'm also an Auror.' A feeling of amazement went through Harry's body as he had always wanted to meet an Auror; had always imagined Aurors to only be tough Wizards with a strong physique and eyebrows always set into a frown. Tonks, the Auror in front of him, was quite the opposite. Curiosity welled up as he wanted ask her for stories about chasing evil Wizards and what it was like to work at the Ministry, but he kept his questions to himself as he knew there would be another time for that. 'And you must be Draco Malfoy,' she then said, reaching her hand out for Draco.

Draco didn't shake it like Harry did, but kissed it. It took a few seconds for Harry to realize that Draco always kissed a _lady's_ hand when meeting one for the the first time; but it had shocked him for just those few seconds. ' _Oui_ , a pleasure to meet you _mademoiselle_ Tonks.'

Tonks chuckled at his words. 'I'm not the queen, but I appreciate the gesture,' she said as she pulled her hand away, stroke Draco's kiss off the top of her hand as if she got infected by something. 'Your presence will stir up a lot of things, though.'

Draco nodded. 'I knew I wouldn't be welcomed by many members, but seeing Harry again was worth the risk for me.' A side-glance of loving eyes was enough for Harry to float away on the spot, but he kept his feet steady on the ground as he listened to Tonks following words.

'It'll be especially hard for Arthur to accept you, as he had the pleasure to go to school with your father. At least, for a few years.'

'I bet it was enough for him to see what kind of a man _mon papa_ is, and therefore I cannot blame him for believing I'm the same as him. But I'm not.'

'Oh, but I believe you,' Tonks said, pulling up her eyebrows slightly. 'Otherwise you would've led Harry straight to that creepy Manor of yours instead of Grimmauld place.'

'Is that what this place is called?' Harry asked and Tonks nodded. He took another look around the room, noticing it's decay. It seemed as if no-one had lived in the house for centuries and that now there were inhabitants, it seemed to protest against every gesture of improvement.

'It belongs to the Black family,' she explained. 'And therefore now to Sirius. It's the perfect Headquarters for the Order, really; the ancient protection spells that are cast upon it keep both Muggles and Wizards away from it. Add Dumbledore's spells to that melange and you won't be able to find a safer house in all of England.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Tonks turned out to be a metamorphagus, something Harry found extremely fascinating and Draco even more. They had spent the next hours in her room watching her change her face in that of an animal or of a person they had requested. Tonks had also told Harry his Auror stories that he so keenly had wanted to hear and when they finally had been called in for dinner, his friends had apologized for their behavior. Of course Harry had forgiven them, how could he not have? And when Sirius had finally told him about the Order, he had understood why they hadn't been able to sent him any letters or replies. But that didn't mean he wasn't at least the tiniest bit angry at them anymore.

Lupin had also been there, but left after dinner unfortunately. Harry hadn't really had much time to talk to him but had enjoyed his presence, had enjoyed watching Draco ask him a thousand-and-one questions about werewolves and other creatures Harry had never heard of before. He had still felt the stinging eyes of Arthur Weasley casted upon Draco with suspicion during every minute of dinner time; but he hadn't blamed him for it. It had just been weird, to see the man that way as he knew Arthur as a funny man whom liked to laugh a lot. Perhaps he had been acting that way to protect his beloved ones; afraid Draco would betray them and therefore betray his family.

When Molly had declared it was time for bed, all the Weasley children, Hermione, Draco and himself had complained greatly; they all had wanted to talk a bit more. But Molly always got what she wanted from them and they had all been ushered up the stairs again. Now Harry and Draco were laying close to each other in a bed only made for one, the strong lemony scent of the blond filling his heart with joy. The plan had been for Harry to share a room with Ron, but Harry had refused to be separated from Draco once again which had led to Ron protesting against having two boyfriends snogging all night and keeping him awake. Harry had declared they wouldn't do such thing but had been saved by Tonks, who had invited the boys to vacant the second bed in her room. 'As if I'm afraid of two lovers attacking me in the middle of the night,' she had said in defense to Molly's protesting. 'Besided, someone has to keep an eye on these two, no?'

And so it was that they were sharing a bed with Tonks by their side, snoring loudly as if she had transformed her head in that of a pig again. 'I never got the chance to thank you for that warning you gave me,' Harry whispered to Draco. The blond had his eyes closed but Harry knew he was still awake.

'It came too late, though; you still have to go to the Ministry,' he whispered back.

'Doesn't mean I'm not grateful for your effort.' Draco smiled and lazily stroke his fingers through Harry's hair, his eyes opened just a little. 'Aren't you worried that your father will find out that you're staying here — with the Order, the enemy?'

A sigh followed. ' _Papa_ won't find out; he thinks I'm staying at the twins their house until I'm going back to Beauxbatons. I told him it's easier to be close to my school before the start of the year. _Intelligent, non?_ '

But Harry was still worried, not so sure if it was that intelligent of a plan. 'What if he'll check if you're there?'

'He won't. And if he will; I've given _les_ _garçons_ a few strands of my hair to use in a Polyjuice potion. Their _maman_ is an Auror, just like Tonks, and she has a storage of all kinds of potions in her basement.'

Harry grinned, knowing that the French twins were probably just as cunning as the Weasley twins he knew all too well. Maybe they should meet one day. 'So they know that you're here?'

Draco shook his head. ' _Non_ , but they do know that I'm with you which is enough for them to keep it hidden. They want to be on your side as well, Harry, we want this dark Wizard defeated — and we all know that you're the only one that can do just that.'

Harry sighed as he thought about his words. Was he really the only one that could defeat Voldemort? Well, he was his archenemy and he had been part of his earlier defeat and rebirth so perhaps — perhaps he _indeed_ was the one to defeat the monster. _But that's just a theory_ , he thought to himself. _But Draco's theories are mostly right,_ a voice then said.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

The days at Grimmauld Place went by too fast and the new school year was coming closer and closer. Harry knew he had to say goodbye again to Draco, had to miss him for Merlin knew how long. At least, if he was allowed to go to Hogwarts again; he still had to go on and defend himself at the Wizengamot. How on earth was he going to do that?

The Ministry Day, as everyone had called it, had come August the twelfth and Arthur had brought Harry to the Ministry. It had been a normal choice for him to do so as he worked there and knew one or two things about the Muggle world. At least, so Harry had thought. He had laughed a lot when he hadn't known how to use a metro card and at his enthusiasm for using the visitor's entry for the first time. Harry had been amazed by the Ministry's atrium but got hurried down corridors and hallways as they had found out his trial would be taking place in only a few minutes instead of an hour. It had been Draco's idea to go earlier than mentioned; he had warned Harry that the Ministry could play an ugly game when it came to trials. And so his advice had helped them to arrive in time.

As they had neared Courtroom Ten, Harry had spotted a familiar man already from afar; Lucius Malfoy, talking to a man in great suspicion. He had followed Harry with his eyes as if he had been a prey; ready to attack at any moment. Worried, the man had looked but extremely wary as well. And Harry hadn't been able to stop thinking that his son was hiding amongst his enemies without him knowing. The humor.

Dumbledore had eventually defended Harry and lifted his suspension so he could return to Hogwarts again in a few weeks — but he hadn't said a word to him at all. He even had avoided any eye-contact and it had become yet another thing for Harry to worry about. Not to mention that strange, dressed-in-pink lady from the Ministry that had been so much against him; that had put him right in Azkaban herself if she could've, just because he had saved his cousin from getting devoured by a Dementor. It had seemed all so strange, her behavior. He had told Draco about her once returned and he immediately seemed to recognize her as the woman he had seen at the Manor only a few weeks ago. 'You must be careful around her, Harry; she's pure evil.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

The first of September had arrived and Harry was walking over to Platform 9¾ with Draco by his side, their hands locked and eyes casted in front of them. Hermione and Ron were trailing behind, discussing school and all their other friends they were going to see again. As they reached the wall, he knew Draco couldn't go through it; it was too much of a risk for him to get recognized by other Wizards or Witches who could then go tell his father that they had seen him in England, not in France with the twins. Once Draco had waved Harry off at the station, he would use a Portkey to travel to Beauxbatons straight away. 'I guess this is good-bye for now,' Harry said, glancing at the wall that separated platform nine from platform ten.

'It's never a good-bye, _mon lion_ , remember that,' Draco replied as he kissed Harry again. It was already the hundredth kiss he had received from the blond that morning and he couldn't get enough.

'Will you keep on sending James letters during school months?' Harry then asked.

Draco nodded with a smile. ' _Bien sûr!_ Jealous?'

Harry shook his head with a grin. 'I wanted to ask you another thing — I kept forgetting about it but now that we're saying our so-called good-byes again,' Harry began. He then retrieved Draco's timepiece from his pocket. 'It acts strange whenever you're around, I noticed. It's almost as if—'

'It points in my direction?' Draco finished Harry's sentence. 'That's because it does; I enchanted it so that whenever I'm near, it'll lead you to me.'

Harry now frowned. 'But — during the summer, before Grimmauld Place, it moved a few times as well.'

The blond then looked away, first at his feet then at one of the Muggle trains beside them. 'Well… That's _maybe_ because I was close to Little Whinging a few times.'

'What?' Harry asked, shocked and certainly surprised by the discovery. 'And you didn't visit me?'

'I wanted to, but — it was harder to get to you than I thought it would be. There were _Non-Magiques_ everywhere and I was afraid _papa_ would return any moment and find out I was gone.'

Harry sighed. If only he had known Draco had been there, maybe he could've met him at a certain place even if it had just been for a few minutes. 'Did you get a glimpse of me while you were there, though?' he asked and to his surprise Draco nodded his head.

'Once I peeked through your bedroom's window and saw you writing a letter, and another time I saw you sitting on a swing in a park. I wanted to approach you but whenever I got closer, it felt like something was pulling me away; as if there was a bubble around you that was guarding you.' Harry didn't know what caused that, but he did know that it was a pity he hadn't noticed Draco glancing at him during his boring days. 'But then Dumbledore sent me a letter and—'

'Dumbledore?' Harry asked, suddenly confused. 'But I thought that Sirius—‘

Draco's eyes widened up to the size of lightbulbs as he stammered a few French words, excuses if Harry was correct. 'Oh, look at the time!' the blond then called out. 'You better hurry, Harry, before you miss your train.' He pressed another kiss against Harry's lips, making him forget what they were talking about for just a second before pushing him in the direction of the wall. 'I'll see you again soon, _monsieur_ Potter!'

'Stop calling me that way,' Harry muttered with a grin but Draco already pushed him through the wall, the brightest of smiles on his lips before he disappeared out of Harry's sight.


	2. Le Rose

* * *

**_C H A P T E R   1 2_ **

 

_Dear Draco,_

_You won't believe who's our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; the pink toad-like woman from the Ministry! How am I supposed to avoid her, as you told me she was evil herself, when I have to take classes with her teaching at the front? Not to mention that her teaching his horrendous and she wants everyone to only read, not learn actual defense spells! It's unbelievable, am I right? She also doesn't believe that Voldemort has returned and it worries me that there are students whom believe her words instead of mine._

_To go further on that topic; a lot of my friends and fellow Gryffindors don't believe me either. They all say I'm lying and that there's even a possibility that I killed Cedric myself. Can you believe that? I, James H. Dursley, am now seen as a murderer by whom who once called me their friend! I swear that if you were here, you would've hexed their trousers off already!_

_I also still haven't managed to get ahold of Dumbledore; he's been avoiding me ever since last year's events. Perhaps he's mad at me, or just too busy with more important things._

_My letter will end here, as I have detention with that awful woman right now; all because she claimed I was lying about his rebirth. Her name is Umbridge, by the way, just so you know. I think the Ministry sent her as they want to keep a close eye on Dumbledore now that one of his students and he himself are claiming that the darkest Wizard of the century has returned._

_I hope things are better at Beauxbatons._

_With love,_

_James_

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_My beloved James,_

_It frightens me to hear that Umbridge is teaching at Hogwarts; even more that the Ministry has allowed her to. I hope she'll leave you alone in the future and that your friends will turn around as well; see their mistakes and see the truth for what it is. And if they don't, I'm sure they'll eventually learn it the hard way._

_Things are indeed going better at Beauxbatons; it's all cheerful here, must I admit. Things are quite the same as they were before, and nobody really seems to be bothered by Voldemort's return. We all know that his main target is England, not France. Of course there's always a possibility that he will try to expand his territory once he has concurred the land of his dreams, but I believe that a certain someone will put ahold to his actions before he manages to do so._

_I'm just glad to be back as well; even though I enjoyed my days in London with you. Ansel and André are also happy to have me back and keep telling me stories about last year's events; how they have pranked half the school and given one of our teachers teal-colored hair!_

_Fleur's not at Beauxbatons anymore; she's currently working in England, actually. She has always been interested in improving her English and has accepted a small job at that bank called Gringotts. I've already received quite some letters of her telling me about a handsome man named Bill Weasley. And yes, I mean Weasley as in your friend Ronald Weasley. It's a small world, a Non-Magique would say. Please keep it a secret to Ron as nothing is really official just yet. I'm not sure wether Fleur will stay working for that bank, though, as she has always dreamt of becoming a Healer. Perhaps she wants to be a doctor at St. Mungo's and therefore should improve her English first. Anyway, it doesn't really matter; just thought I'd inform you about her._

_Tell me more stories about this Umbridge in your next letter; you made me curious to know more about her. Also, have you had any nightmares at Hogwarts again?_

_Yours truly,_

_Draco_

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_Draco_

_Dear Draco,_

_Umbridge is the most unbelievable woman I have ever met! And yes, I've called you unbelievable before but she tops it all, really. She's starting to make these rules that tell students what to do and what certainly_ _not_ _to do. A crazy woman, she is. And the craziest is probably that Dumbledore is letting it all happen. Has he perhaps become afraid of the Ministry? I hope Dumbledore will soon snap out of the haze that seems to be floating in front of his eyes the whole time._

_My friends are slowly starting to turn around; realizing that certain events that are happening outside of Hogwarts can't be blamed on nature or whatever reason the Ministry's making up. It's nice to have their support again, even though they're still wary about it all. I'm thinking that it's maybe time to do something; to learn how to defend myself and teach others to do so as well. Hermione and I are planning on organizing a kind of club for learning defense spells. Ron is also in for it, even though he has declined every idea that involved him teaching. I wish you could come join the club as well; I'm sure you would be the best teacher of us all._

_My nightmares have remained the same way; coming and going with immense force. I still dream about him, about what he sees and about this snake of his. It's frightening and Hermione finds it worrying; but maybe I can somehow start to understand him this way._

_I'm sorry I can only deliver you negative news; things at Hogwarts aren't so rose colored as they are at Beauxbatons. Is it too late to change schools and become a boy dressed in blue silk as well?_

_With love,_

_James_

Draco folded Harry's letter again and hid it away in his desk's drawer. With a simple spell the drawer got locked; only opening to the touch of his very hand. He looked over his shoulder, glanced through the window to see the morning sky clear itself from orange sunlight. How much he loved being in his room at Beauxbatons again; at being away from that cold Manor. Everything here was rich and warm, made of gold and white. Blue accents were hidden everywhere; as little flowers on his wardrobe or the tiniest curls decorating his door. At night he could land in a heaven made of silk, stare at a ceiling painted like the night's sky. Hogwarts had been wonderful, but Beauxbatons was just mesmerizing.

It worried Draco that the pink woman he had seen at the Manor last summer was now Harry's teacher; there was something demon-like radiating from her. He had sensed it the moment she had set foot on the Manor's tiled floors; evil had entered the building. Curious he had sneaked upon his father and this woman in the drawing room, had overheard their conversation and informed Harry. But now he had no idea what she was planning to do; she was too far away for him to reach.

He dressed himself in the school's uniform, proudly showing off the golden crest of Beauxbatons stitched upon his heart. His hand automatically reached out for one of his hats, but he drew it back and decided he wasn't feeling like wearing one today. Throwing another glance outside his window, looking at Beauxbatons' Quidditch Pitch in the far background, he decided it might be a good day to fly and let that strong autumn's wind blow through his hair.

The twins had been shocked to see him return with short hair the first of September, had let their hands go through it a million times before believing there wasn't any spell cast upon it to fool their eyes. They had liked it in the end, though; declaring that it suited their own short hairstyles better and that they were truly a trio of perfection now.

Draco's parents hadn't reacted as sweetly as the twins had; they had despised it from the moment their eyes had seen it. Draco hadn't told Harry about it; as he didn't want to give the boy another reason to feel responsible and sorry for it all. His father had raised his hand; almost as an automatic gesture programmed into his mind to hit his son must he ever do such thing. The man had told him how different he looked; how he didn't resemble a true Malfoy anymore. How could one be so angry about something as futile as hair, Draco had wondered. He had felt small and worthless as his father had finally lowered his hand, straightened his robes and left the room without another word. His mother had dropped her tea cup upon seeing it and hadn't commented on it at all; but the look of worry in her eyes had been enough for Draco to know she wasn't sure wether it had been the right decision to make such a bold statement towards his father, and his beloved Pureblood-line.

But that hadn't been all of it. Waking up in one of the Manor's four-poster beds had never felt so familiar as his father had cast a spell on him that had made his long, silver hair grow back overnight. He had felt it immediately and had seen the silver locks draped over his pillows like they once used to do. It had upset him, and only a few seconds later the locks had fallen to the elaborate carpeted floor; his father throwing another disappointed glare at his short-haired son when appearing downstairs for breakfast. He hadn't tried it again; had somehow given up after a single try. Perhaps his mother had talked him out of it; maybe had told him it was a _phase._

A hallway with floor to ceiling windows appeared beyond his bedroom' door and lead him back to the common room he knew so well. His light footsteps resounded on the marble floor, his presence getting mirrored in every shiny detail of gold. Others also left their rooms, the curve of the hallway making some windows and doors slightly curved as well. Blue numbers declared one's chambers and magical golden footprints on the floor told a lost first-year where to go. The dormitories at Beauxbatons were simply nothing like those at Hogwarts; they weren't divided into houses or years, they were simply divided as how Madame pleased. 

Reaching the common room — a near-perfect resemblances of the one they had in their carriage the year before — Draco could already spot the twins from afar. They were sprawled across one of the sofas, two legs hanging from the side, the other pair laid upon the small marble table. With a book in front of their faces, Draco guessed that the twins hadn't studied again. He cleared his throat as he neared, two sets of eyes slowly appearing from behind Potion books. 'I see someone hasn't studied?' he said to them, a cheeky smile lingering upon his lips.

Ansel rolled his eyes and pointed them at the content of his page again. 'Just because _you're_ the perfect student doesn't mean we are,' he declared.

André on the other hand closed his book to hit his brother on the head. 'Don't be such a _connard_ to Draco! Before you know he'll run off to Hogwarts again and leave us here — all alone — amongst eleven-year olds.'

Ansel closed his book as well, stared at his twin-brother as if he had said somethinh impossible and completely absurd before looking at Draco with his ocean blue eyes. 'You won't do that, right?'

Draco just laughed and shook his head. 'Of course not. Being a student at Hogwarts isn't the greatest thing ever this year anyway; the Ministry is involving itself with their education,' he told them. The twins gave each other an interested glance to then return their eyes to Draco, eager to hear more. Why were Beauxbatons students always so keen on hearing gossip? 'I'll tell you more about it on our way to breakfast; _je meurs de faim_.'

As they walked to the Dining Chamber, a few lost first-years trailing behind them, Draco explained everything he knew about the pink Ministry woman to his friends. He could trust them, he knew that, and they would definitely help him decide what Harry could do best to avoid her or make his life more pleasant around her.'And you should've seen her face; such a resemblance to a toad I had never seen before. I'm still amazed by how _papa_ could keep a straight face when talking to her.'

'Perhaps it's because her tone wasn't really like the way she dressed, _non_?' Ansel guessed.

Draco agreed with him. 'I believe so. Well, at least she's not here to mess around with Beauxbatons' education, is she?'

The twins both shook their heads, all three of them smiling as they entered the Dining Chamber. Delicious smells filled their hearts with joy and the tables of marble and gold greeted them with big smiles the shape of croissants, but something was wrong — _different_ ; Draco immediately noticed it as everything was more elaborate than usual; more food, more choices of beverages and the usual blue decorations were recolored into a bubble gum pink. _Pink_. Draco's heart stopped as he first glanced at the twins, noticed they were thinking the same as their smiles faded from their handsome faces. 'She does indeed look like a toad,' André then said and Draco followed his eyes; only to see Umbridge sit next to his beloved Headmistress Madame Maxime.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

'What is _she_ doing here, Madame? She's from the _Ministère des Affaires Magiques_ of England — not of France!' Draco had followed Madame Maxime to her chambers after breakfast and was now hysterically trying to reason with her. He wanted an explanation to why she was letting the pink devil involve herself with a school that wasn't even hers to rule over.

' _Des Ministères_ have decided it's only right if _des écoles magiques européennes_ unite their education systems. They have seen how well we can get along during the Tournament last year and now believe we should keep on getting along,' Madame explained.

It only made Draco more furious; the Tournament had been something that shouldn't have happened at all. It had caused yet another student to go down in history as a dead victim of the absurd game, but apparently the Ministries of Europe had only had their eyes set on the positive things. 'You can't let her mess with our school, _Madame_! I've heard what pathetic rules she has set up at Hogwarts and —'

'And it is not for you to decide wether or not those rules are _vrai ou faux_ , Draco.' Madame's voice contained a hint of rage and Draco knew he had to watch his words; she could turn into her furious self any second now.

'I just want what's best for the school — and _she_ definitely isn't.' He had listened to her speech, of course, as there had been no escape from it anyway. Every student of his beloved school had had to listen to her squeaking voice explaining why she was there and what she would be doing. All the words that had come from her mouth had been disguised to sound pleasing — to sound _appealing_ , but Draco had heard them for what they really were; plans and rules to change _everything_ that the French school was about. The only positive news was that Umbridge wasn't planning on staying at Beauxbatons herself; had her hands full with Hogwarts and therefore would lay all her faith in the hands of Madame Maxime.

'We'll see, _mon amour_ ,' Madame replied before entering her chambers and leaving Draco behind in the hallway, staring at her door. _I must inform Harry about this_ , was the first thing he thought before taking off to his room again. That Potion's test could go make itself; he had more important things to do.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_My beloved James,_

_You won't believe what I'm about to tell you, my love. That toad-like woman from the Ministry that has been terrorizing your school ever since September, has now decided to terrorize my precious Beauxbatons as well. As soon as I saw those hints of pink decorating the Dining Chamber, I knew she was there. I could_ _sense_ _her evil from afar! I don't even know how you can stand being in the same room as her; I almost faded away on the spot out of pure fury. Wouldn't have surprised me if I had gone out in flames like a Phoenix during her speech._

_Of course I had to ask Madame for an explanation, and she told me the Magical Ministries of Europe want to unite their education system; make us more cohesive. I know there are some good things to it, like visiting other schools and meeting students from different cultures, but this woman definitely isn't suited for the job. I must admit it won't be as bad as at Hogwarts; her influence will be redirected through Madame Maxime's and therefore she won't be able to hurt us, or our school, directly._

_This idea of yours to start a club for learning defense spells intrigues me, and I must keep it in the back of my mind for when things go extremely wrong here as well. Let me know the progress of it; perhaps I can give you some tips or recommend certain spells that would be suitable to teach others._

_I'm worried about your nightmares, and I don't believe it's a good things that you can look into that monster's mind; especially not through his eyes. Perhaps you should consult a professor to teach you Occulemncy. I myself am an accomplished Occlumens as maman has taught me to block my thoughts from unwanted influences ever since I was a child; looking back on it now I believe she was worried papa might use it against me one day. Anyway, it can be very useful for multiple purposes; especially keeping the Dark Lord out of your head, I suppose._

_Oh, how much I wish you were here. Somehow I feel we would be able to sort things out a bit better when talking in person than talking through letters; not to mention the fact that it takes two weeks to hear your reply. But every letter I receive from you, my dear James, is a gift I am willing to wait fourteen days for._

_Yours truly,_

_Draco_

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_Dear Draco,_

_I simply can't believe that Umbridge is involving herself with your school as well! I also told Hermione and Ron about it and they find it unheard of that someone from the Ministry of England can involve herself with a French school. I hope your Headmistress won't change things so dramatically as Umbridge has done here; one of Hogwarts' walls is covered in her so-called 'Educational Decrees', which are the stupidest rules basically. I'll tell you all about them another time when we're together again; writing all of them down in detail would take me a dozen scrolls of parchment._

_Last Saturday on our trip to Hogsmeade, we arranged a gathering for those who were interested in joining our little club. And believe it or not; lots of students wanted to join us. We're calling ourselves Dumbledore's Army; it was an idea of Ron's sister, Ginny, and is a mocking to the Ministry as well as a declaration of our loyalty to Dumbledore._

_We have also found a room; a secret one that only opens up to ones in desperate need. Neville found it and was_ _so_ _proud to present it to us. The room provides you with exactly those things you're looking for so it's the perfect place to practice, really._

_We've already had one secret meeting, arranging dates and times by the use of enchanted Galleons, and everything went great! They're all eager to learn the Patronus charm, as my friend Luna bragged about me being able to cast one during the gathering. She's one of a kind and I'm sure you would love to hear her talk about these creatures no-one, not even a Magical Creatures professor, ever heard about. She introduced me to these animals, by the way; they're called Thestrals. I wonder if you can see them, because I can._

_With the holidays nearing, I'm looking forward to see Sirius again and hopefully a few other members of the Order, as I'm going back to London. Ron and Hermione are going as well, and now I was wondering wether you would be able to join us too?_

_With love,_

_James_

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

One blink with his eyes and it seemed as if the holidays were already there. With his round suitcase and pile of books gathered in the sunroom, Draco experienced a déjà vu of the year before; violets were dancing atop of white marble again, boys were once again running and chasing behind their petals of blue. How he had detested their behavior — and how he now would do just the same if Harry was there.

A cheeky little game of telling lies he had had to play to be able to join Harry for the holidays. He had told his parents he would be staying at Beauxbatons; too much homework and special festivities were keeping him there and would make him unable to go home. Madame Maxime, on the other hand, he had told that he would go home; celebrate Christmas with his beloved family before the days were going to turn dark again. She hadn't understood his decision, but had guessed it was for his mother and therefore hadn't asked any further about it. 

Draco thought his plan had worked out greatly as he entered the carriage, the twins by his side ready to go home as well. 'So you're not _actually_ going home?' Ansel whispered to him.

A shake of his head and the tiniest of smirks agreed to his words. 'I'm expected to be elsewhere.'

'Or by someone,' André added to it with a cheeky smile. Draco nudged him in the side. How much he sometimes wished they didn't know about him and Harry; it would prevent him from turning the color of a tomato every once in a while.

The carriage was nothing like it had been the year before; was now just a large room that looked like that of a train station's waiting hall. Rows of benches were placed against each other, storage for luggage under and above, and students dressed in casual wear seated upon them. The windows were enlarged, showing off the beautiful winter landscapes of the French pyrenees. How much Draco was looking forward to seeing Harry again, to wrap his arms around the boy and tell him everything would be alright — his favorite thing to say, as it was something the boy _needed_ to hear over and over again. How much he had missed his smile, the green of his eyes and that messy hair of his. He dreamt away already while trying to imagine what clothes he would be wearing; worn-off denims and a hoodie three sizes too big, probably. He wiped a strand of silver hair off his own tailored trousers and decided then and there he would take Harry shopping for new clothes that holiday.

Coming to a halt on a deserted square in Paris, Draco said his goodbyes to the twins and hurried himself to the Portkey Madame had arranged for him. A few other students followed him as well, their eyes searching for the old and scruffy object their Headmistress had informed them about. The row of objects looked as if stolen items from a poor man living on the streets, and Draco picked out his rotten apple almost immediately. Pulling a face of disgust he placed a finger on the soft flesh and felt his body getting pulled away into a swirl of time and space as he traveled over the Channel to England again. With the smallest rustle of leafs he landed on the forest's muddy ground a little away from the Manor, the rotten apple rolling down the slight hill before popping away into nothingness. Draco could see the roof of the Manor he hated so much and turned his back towards it without a second guess, retrieved his shrunken broom from his pocket and blessed the night sky for turning dark at already an early hour during winter. Flying over the trees of the same forest he had landed in before, he made his way to London again with the cold wind blowing through his hair.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Hair pointing in every direction, trousers wrinkled but a smile on his face; Draco couldn't have resembled Harry more when the boy opened the door of Grimmauld Place for him. The world became a blurry haze as Harry wrapped his arms around him and pulled him inside, twirled him through the hallway as if he hadn't seen him in years. 'Calm down, _mon lion_ ; you're making me dizzy,' Draco complained as Harry came to a halt, kissed him and threw him one of his beautiful smiles.

'I'm just so happy to see you again,' the boy said, kissing Draco's lips, neck and every other visible part of skin before getting interrupted by the couching of a ginger-haired woman.

Harry turned himself around to look in the amused eyes of Molly Weasley, and Draco followed his look with a smile. 'Draco, darling! You're here!' she called out, wrapping him in a tight hug as well. 'Harry couldn't shut up about you so it was highly time for you to arrive!'

Cheeks turned red as the boys looked shyly away, aware of their over-dramatic selves. Molly just laughed and ushered them into the dining room, onto their seats. A handful of Weasley children were seated around the table as well, throwing glances at the new guest and holding in their laughs. Before anyone dared to say a word, he felt a hand go through his hair, straightening the strands that were making him look like a fool. _So that's why they were trying not to laugh,_ Draco thought to himself. _I would've wanted to laugh at myself as well._ A side-glance to the right was enough for Draco to know it was Harry whom was helping him to look a little normal again. 'Merci,' Draco said to him before turning himself back to his staring crowd. 

His eyes fell upon Arthur Weasley, a ginger-haired father who looked as if beaten to near-dead. He was seated in a wheel-chair, his head wrapped in bandages and his face the color of every existing galaxy. 'W-what happened to you, sir?' Draco stammered, a bit hesitant. Everyone held their breath as they looked from Draco to Arthur, who's colored face now added the color of an explosion; a bright red.

But it soon became clear that it wasn't because of anger — rather because of effort for trying to smile and talk while being in such pain. It was a strange look, having a black eye but smiling at the same time. 'Harry Potter here saved me,' the man began, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. He lifted his hand slightly to point in Harry's direction but Molly pushed it down again, not wanting him to exhaust himself. 'If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here with my family tonight,' he continued.

Draco turned himself to Harry with a questioning look; he didn't remember Harry telling him anything about saving Arthur Weasley in his letters. 'Later,' Harry whispered to him, understanding the question hidden beneath his grey eyes.

'Yes, later indeed, my boy. For now, a toast and presents, please!' Arthur announced, taking ahold of his wine glass with a shaking hand and raising it a few inches from the table. 'Merry Christmas.'

Draco raised his glass as well, a small smile upon his lips. He still wasn't sure wether everyone around that particular table actually wanted him there; but having at least the support of a few was enough to give him the feeling only Christmas could give. He noticed Sirius was there as well; all the way at the end of the table, looking extremely tired and bored by it all. Something had changed — or something wasn't going like the raven-haired man wanted things to go.

Draco's attention got pulled away from Harry's godfather by Molly whom excitedly left the room to return seconds later with a pile of gifts. Draco saw it as his cue and opened his little suitcase as well, started retrieving a few small gifts he had prepared for the ones he hoped to see again. Harry now was the one to throw him a questioning glance, but Draco waved his look away. If he wanted to gift things, then that was his decision. Molly seemed to agree with Harry's questioning eyes as she pulled an eyebrow at the pile of gifts wrapped in gold. 'Dear boy, you didn't have to buy us anything', she said to him, eyes wide but with a warm look.

'I wanted to; I'm a guest and therefore should bring my hosts and friends some gifts. Here you go, _Madame_ Weasley,' he replied and reached out a rectangular-shaped present to her.

Her warm eyes lit up even more as she accepted the present with a smile. 'I've told you before to just call me Molly, dear. Now, let's see what unnecessary gift you bought for me, shall we?' Everyone went silent as they awaited what it was Draco had gifted the ginger-haired woman. A book appeared from underneath the wrapping and was clutched to Molly's chest almost immediately, a bright smile on her face. 'Oh, Draco you know exactly what to get me, don't you?'

Everyone frowned their eyebrows and leaned a bit closer to Molly, trying to get a better look on what she got. 'What is it mum?' One of the Weasley twins asked with a curious glance at the book.

'A copy of Celestina Warbeck's autobiography!' she announced, showing off the book with its elaborate cover.

'A signed copy,' Draco noted, raising his index finger and watching Molly Weasley slowly melt away as she opened the book to look at her idol's signature.

'At least the book can't sing,' the other Weasley twin then said, followed by the grinning of the other Weasley children and a glare from Molly.

Draco handed out his other presents as well, including a book about Beauxbatons' castle for Hermione and a box of French candy for Ron — which had made the ginger-haired boy smile at him for the first time since Draco could remember. That alone was a success already and the star atop of his Christmas tree that year.

To Harry he gifted something he had put quite the thought in — something he had bought for himself as well. It was the smallest gift of all, but the most special. He gave it to Harry with nervous eyes and watched him struggle with unwrapping it; the tiny pieces of spello-tape not wanting to come off. After seconds of getting curiously looked at, the boy finally managed to see what it was his boyfriend had gifted him. A golden medallion the size of a thumb laid in the palm of his hand, reflecting the greens of his eyes. 'A medallion?' Harry asked and Draco nodded, gestured for him to open it. The tiniest moving photographs of a lion and a butterfly decorated it's insides; one roaring at the boy and the other fluttering its wings in anticipation. Green eyes filled with happiness stared at the animals; Harry once again amazed by magic.

Draco felt Harry's hand take ahold of his underneath the table's surface, felt a soft squeeze that was meant as a _thank you_. 'I got the same one,' Draco said, pulling the medallion from underneath his jumper and showing it to Harry. The boy only smiled, lost for words as he stared at the little gift in his hand again. 

'Now,' Molly then interrupted. It snapped Draco out of his moment with Harry, made him realize there were more people in the room then just the two of them. It seemed to wake Harry from his enchantment as well as he closed the medallion and hung it around his neck. 'My turn.'

With a single flick of her wand, Molly's presents flew over everyone's head and landed in front of their new owners without a sound. Eagerly wanting to open their presents, the Weasley children stared up at their mother, waiting for a sign. As soon as Molly nodded her head, wrapping paper got torn and flew through the air, landing on the ground, table and even Draco's shoulder. Colorful jumpers appeared with personalized designs and everyone immediately pulled them on over their clothes, showed them off to the person next to them. Harry got one with golden snitches in a blue color; almost as if the snitches were flying in a sky made out of wool. Arthur was the only one to receive a scarf instead of a jumper, and Molly wrapped it around his neck with much delicacy before kissing her husband on the head.

'And of course,' Molly began as she made her way around the table. 'I also _had_ to make one for you, dear boy.' She stopped by Draco's side and placed a present in front of him as well. A warm feeling spread through Draco's stomach as he unwrapped the gift, pulling out a jumper specially made for him. 'It's probably not as fancy as those gifts you get from your family, but it's a Weasley tradition,' she explained but Draco almost couldn't hear her anymore; too moved by the gesture to even remember how to decently breathe. He looked at the jumper made out of the same blue wool as Harry's, decorated with the letter 'D' in gold. His colors — _his_ jumper. He still had Harry's Christmas jumper from the year before; the one he hadn't been able to give back and had worn to bed ever since the day Harry had given it to him. And now he had his own.

' _J'adore ça. C'est parfait!_ ' he told Molly, not realizing his words were coming out in French. She gave him a questioning look, but one of warmth and _somehow_ understanding as well.

'He loves it, Molly,' Hermione translated and Molly beamed even more.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Having the room for themselves now that Tonks wasn't there anymore, the boys could talk more easily and stay up for as long as they wanted — until the moonlight would hit it's peak of shining the brightest and every star had appeared in the night sky. They were still sharing their little bed, arms wrapped around one another and that scent of pine radiating from Harry's body again. He had missed it so much; even actual pine trees didn't seem to possess the richness of the scent. 'You have to tell me about saving Arthur, Harry. You don't want to keep secrets from me, right?'

Harry shook his head and let a few fingers slide through Draco's hair. Long or short — the boy would forever be obsessed with it. 'I saw him in one of my nightmares,' he explained. 'I saw how he got attacked by _his_ snake — how he was left alone at the Ministry to die.'

' _Un serpent?_ And you saw him in your nightmares? With that you mean—'

'From his eyes, yes. Or, from his snake's this time. I was the snake, you see — attacking Arthur.' Harry swallowed at those words, dropping his hand from stroking Draco's head. 'I was the one hurting him, and I couldn't do anything.'

'But he's still alive — what happened then?'

'As soon as I awoke from that nightmare, I went to professor McGonaggal; told her everything about what I had seen. She brought me to professor Dumbledore straight away.'

'You spoke to him?' 

'Not really; I tried to but he seemed unwilling to listen. He _did_ sent one of his portraits to check on Arthur, so I guess he listened partly to what I had to say.'

'It's so strange that he ignores you. Perhaps he's too occupied with his own thoughts, _non_? There are a lot of dark clouds hanging above his head now that the Dark Lord has returned.'

Harry sighed. 'I know — but that doesn't mean he can't hear me out. He did ask, however, how I knew about this attack. I told him the truth about the nature of my nightmares — and before I knew it I was getting dragged down to the dungeons by professor Snape.'

Draco raised himself on his elbow and looked at Harry with shock readable on his face. 'The dungeons? They were going to lock you up like a mad person?'

Harry chuckled at Draco's words and shook his head, pushed his lover down again. 'No, silly; Snape's classroom's in the dungeon. He insisted on teaching me Occlumency that same night already. I know you told me it was a good thing to learn, but it certainly isn't from professor Snape.'

'He's evil?'

'You could say that — and very impatient with me, I believe. And I hate having him in my head; it's almost worse than looking through Voldemort's eyes. He saw all my memories, you know; even some of us together.'

Draco's cheeks blushed at the thought of a professor seeing every little thing, every little moment they had shared together. An awkward feeling boiled up in his stomach as he looked away from Harry's green eyes. 'That's rather — personal,' he commented. 'But it's good for you to learn it; especially if _he_ will start using it against you one day.'

'I don't believe he knows there's a connection; that he knows that I can see through his eyes.'

'He might not now, but I'm sure he'll eventually will, Harry. The monster's not stupid. _Il n'est pas un idiot._ Your should be careful.' Draco took Harry's hand in his, stroke it as if to let his worries soak into his skin. And then he noticed the relief of scars that had formed themselves on the rough hands he had held so many times. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but there was definitely something there. Confused, Draco lifted Harry's hand above their blanket and stared at the carved letters in the moon's white light. 'I must not tell lies,' he read out loud. Harry tried to pull his hand away but Draco kept it in place with all the power he got; it wasn't much but it was enough to convince Harry to keep his hand where it was. 'Who did this to you?'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'That Umbridge — who else? It's one of her punishments at detention, and let's say that I was the perfect candidate for it.'

For the second time that night, Draco raised himself on his elbow again, looking down upon his boyfriend with shocked eyes. 'You must report this to Headmaster Dumbledore! _C'est maltraitance!'_

'That's just what Hermione said, Draco, but Dumbledore has other things to worry about. More important things. It'll fade away.'

With a sigh, Draco laid himself down next to Harry again. 'It might, but — that doesn't mean she should be allowed to do such a thing. It's medieval and absolute torture, _non_?'

'Well, I hope for you Madame Maxime doesn't copy her ways of detention.'

Draco swallowed at the thought, but knew Madame would never approve of such vile techniques. Besides, her girls' hands were too precious to mutilate just like that. ' _Non_ , she won't.'

A soft kiss got pressed against his forehead followed by deep sigh, as if Harry wasn't just tired from the day but tired by life in general. Perhaps he also was, now that he had so many things to worry about. Add Umbridge to that and his life was the perfect melange of negativity. Draco felt sorry for him; wished he could do something to make his life a little more easy — to take his responsibilities as the Boy-Who-Lived away if only for a few hours. The only thing he could do, though, was surround him with his love and make him feel loved — make him feel like he wasn't alone. Draco pulled him a bit closer to radiate that feeling and heard a content sigh escape from the boy's mouth in return. 'You know, Umbridge has made this rule that forbids one to be within six inches of each other,' Harry told him, his face so close that his breath could be felt upon Draco's pearl cheeks.

'Then you're way too close, Harry,' Draco replied with a cheeky smile. 'But we're not at Hogwarts right now, are we? I'm not even a Hogwarts student.'

'That's true,' Harry admitted, his fingers drawing circles on Draco's back.

Green emeralds were shining in the pale moonlight that got casted through one of the windows of Grimmauld Place's bedroom. A few portraits, taken off the walls and turned around to grumble against nothing — a few books and pieces of clothing shattered across the floor. Two boys tangled as one, wishing that there were no dark days coming ahead, that there was no devil whom dressed in pink robes and that the Christmas holidays could last forever. A cold wind blew into the room from underneath the door, sending shivers down their spines but they had each other's warmth — a warmth that would be strong enough, they knew, to get them through the cold days ahead.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

'You look silly,' Harry declared, trying to snatch Draco's too large hat off his head.

With the promise to himself of taking Harry shopping for some decent clothes — as he wasn't planning on being associated with such a messy dressed person for any longer — Draco had dragged Harry to Muggle London two days before their return to school. A large hat he had decided to wear, together with a jacket too large for him and a scarf too long. He looked like a walking sack of potatoes, or a giant Christmas sock — the metaphor didn't matter; the overall look of it did. He knew no-one would recognize him even if he just dressed the stylish way he always did, but there was always a little risk of someone seeing them together.

'I have to hide, Harry! They can't see us together! _Et papa_ can't certainly see me here in London!' he told him, glancing over his shoulder to only see some confused Muggles stare back.

Harry just rolled his eyes and squeezed Draco's hand a bit. 'Well, it wasn't my idea to go shopping.'

'You look like _un imbécile_ in those clothes and I can't have my boyfriend walking around like that.'

'It's not like I wear casual clothes that often anyway; I usually wear my school robes. And if anyone's looking like an imbecile, than it's you.'

Affronted by Harry comment, Draco stopped in his pace and let go of Harry's hand, crossed them instead. He, king of fashion and Wizarding style, _never_ looked like an imbecile! Unless Harry thought his tailored trousers, expensive cotton jumpers and exclusively made festivity robes were what an imbecile wore. Draco could even win awards for best dressed Wizard if he wanted to! 'What did you just call me?' he asked, chin held up high to defend his pride.

A deep sigh followed as Harry tried to take Draco's hand again. 'I didn't mean it like that; just the clothes that you're wearing right now, that's all. Do I get offended so easily when you call me names?'

Alright, perhaps Harry had only meant the stupid clothes he was wearing right there and then, but that didn't mean he could backfire Draco's own snide comments on his boyfriend's casual wear that easily. ' _Alors_ , let's get this shopping over quickly so I can change into something you do like, _oui_?'

'What I like you in would be nothing at all,' Harry answered, green eyes shining with desire as he pulled Draco closer to him. Layers of clothing were between them but still Draco could feel the beating of his heart transfer to Harry; soak into his body like water and fuel the shine of his emerald eyes.

His face turned crimson in seconds as he pushed Harry away, a light push that was only meant to make the situation less awkward. He turned his head away, tried to focus on something else to let the blood drain away from his face — but he felt it stay there as he saw a hint of pink in the distance. 'Is that—,' he began, glancing at Harry again and noticing that the boy had already left his spot; had started his chase after the pink silhouette.

Hurrying behind Harry, the pink woman in question appeared more clearly to them as well; she had the same stumpy and short figure as Umbridge and the same hairdo. A large bow bounced on her head as she made her way through the shopping crowd, bumping against people's shoulders without apologizing. In silence Draco and Harry kept trailing behind her, not even having to take the effort to hide as Umbridge only seemed to be focus on her goal — on wherever she was going.

It quickly became clear to the boys that she was heading to Diagon Alley; the Leaky Cauldron only another street away. The crowd had thinned, the loud noises of Christmas carols slowly fading away. 'She could've flooed to Diagon Alley straight away; why all the effort of going through Muggle London?' Draco asked, his voice a whisper. Harry gave him a questioning look and pulled Draco into a dark alley as Umbridge glanced over her shoulder for the first time. A wary glance — one out of worry and suspicion.

'More importantly is what she's up to — doesn't really look like she's shopping for Christmas sales,' Harry noted before leaving the alley again, pulling Draco along. 'Maybe we should hide.'

'Hide? But then we won't be able to follow her, non?'

Harry shook his head and opened the bag he had been dragging along with him ever since they had left. A cloak of pure silk appeared, decorated with tiny stars and moons; his father's infamous invisibility cloak. Flashbacks to when Draco had bumped into Harry, had despised him for being such a clumsy and ignorant student roaming the ground of Hogwarts in the dark flashed in front of Draco's eyes. It made him smile, remembering times where they we nothing more than acquaintances. With their arms locked, the invisibility cloak easily covered the two of them and they continued their chase in knowing what Umbridge was up to.

Diagon Alley was just as packed as Muggle London; everyone shopping for Christmas sales and dragging their children along the snowy streets. Enchanted snow wandered down upon everyone's heads and for a moment Draco worried wether the invisibility cloak would be exposed that way. A singe shake of Harry's head was enough for Draco to know it wouldn't, and it amazed him how good Harry had become at reading Draco's mind — _somehow_ , at least.

They followed Umbridge all the way to Knockturn Alley and into a dodgy looking pub, black wooden furniture covering the cramped space and red candles giving the whole place a macabre twist. She walked straight to a man, a hood covering his face and took out her handkerchief, unfolded it and placed it upon the crooked chair's seat. With her toad-like face leaning closer to the man, it became difficult for Draco and Harry to hear her voice — even though they had moved as close to the table as they could, holding their breaths. 'You are not trying hard enough! People are starting to speculate things — starting to turn to _his_ side,' she hissed to the man.

A grumble from underneath the hood followed, followed by a sip of a damping liquid. 'It's not my fault, Dolores. Today's Witches and Wizards tend to be on _his_ side more easily — believe he's the answer to all of the Wizarding World's problems.' Draco didn't recognize the voice, and by the frowned look on Harry's face; he probably didn't as well. But who was this man they were talking about; was it Voldemort? Were people starting to join his side — was he perhaps getting stronger?

'Dumbledore has you under his control as well, I see,' Dolores then declared. She sniffed with her nose and crossed her short, chubby arms. So it was Dumbledore they were talking about — but why?

'I'm on the Ministry's side; and you know that. I have done _everything_ I can to help hide his rebirth but—‘

'He has _not_ been reborn!' Umbridge's voice came out louder than she had expected, drawing the curious eyes of a few other customers. 'If you managed that dull-witted paper of yours a bit better then the Wizarding community wouldn't have to _believe_ it was something stronger than nature doing such things!' Umbridge's face was getting more red by the effort of suppressing her anger.

The man sighed and folded his hands. 'We're doing everything we can; writing the most insane stories to cover up his deeds but—'

'There are no deeds as there's no-one who does them,' Umbridge interrupted the man again.

'Then explain who killed all those Muggles with the single flick of a wand; who caused that mess in the woods a few weeks ago — who _killed_ Cedric Diggory! I don't see any of _your_ Aurors arrest a Wizard or Witch responsible for those acts, do I?'

In fury Umbridge rose from her seat, her plump self leaning closer to the man. Draco got surprised by it and had to hold a hand to his mouth not to let a gasp escape. 'Watch your words, mister Cuffe — you wouldn't want the Ministry to start involving itself with the Prophet, now would you?'

In defense, the man named Cuffe rose from his seat as well. 'The Ministry's already doing just that.' His hands were balled to fists and leaned upon the wooden table, it's surface shaking by the force underneath his knuckles.

'And it will continue to do so; more devoted than ever.'

Draco could hear the man swallow as he sat back down on his chair, take another sip from his drink before looking up to Umbridge again. 'You won't be able to hide his return away forever, Dolores; and you know it. Fudge should realize that as well.'

The face of Dolores Umbridge had reached the brightest shade of red, making her the exact resemblance of a rotten tomato, but the color suddenly seemed to drain away as she raised her chin and folded her handkerchief again. Tucking it away in her pink cloak's pocket she glanced at the man once more before giving two men at the bar a wordless sign. Muscular men in black cloaks left their seats immediately and made their way to Cuffe, Draco and Harry having to jump away from the table not to be run into to — to get discovered. The men lifted Cuffe from his seat with no effort at all, his hood sliding off his head and revealing the face of a tired, middle-aged man. 'Take mister Cuffe to the Ministiry; he has been arrested for speculating the return of _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ ,' Umbridge announced.

Cuffe protested against her words, even begged the men not to take him away; but the evil smirk on Umbridge's face was enough for every other person in the pub to know that there was no escape from her claws. With Cuffe and the two men out the door, Umbridge took a deep sigh as if she had just cleared her entire garden of Gnomes. Something about the look in her eyes told Draco that she had more planned; that this was just the start of silencing every Wizard or Witch that had some influence in the Wizarding community — all to silence the rebirth of what they feared, of what they should be preparing for instead. An anger Draco had never experienced before spread through his body; a feeling of agony towards a woman that was causing so many to be in blinded danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter with a little bit of Christmas feelings, cuteness, hate towards the pink-dressed woman named Umbridge and a build-up to more important events coming up in the next chapter! I added the last part where they overhear Umbridge talk to the editor of the Daily Prophet as I find it a perfect example of her/the Ministry's plans to silence Voldemort's deeds and keep an eye on everyone who believes Albus Dumbledore's words. I hope it makes sense? Thank you for all the comments, you all seriously are too good for me!!
> 
> And yes, I totally did photoshop an actual lion and an actual butterfly into a heart-shaped medallion *awh*.


	3. La prophétie

 

**_C H A P T E R 1 3_ **

_Draco_

Gold and red, the colors of Gryffindor, left the streets and were exchanged for empty pavements and a returning dark, cold atmosphere. Christmas trees were taken down, decorations put away as the holidays came to an end; and therefore Draco's trip to England as well. It hadn't been easy to say goodbye to Harry again, not knowing when would be the next time they would see each other. Would another opportunity to visit Grimmauld Place in the summer be awaiting him? The boys both didn't know as they knew things would become more difficult by the second; Voldemort luring behind their backs and Draco's curious father joining him by his side.

Wearing Molly's jumper with pride, Draco flew back to the forest surrounding the Manor. His lips still tingled with Harry's last kiss and he wished he could feel the slight bruising for more days to come. Landing without a sound he took a look around and heard the wind whisper in his ears, blow by and never return again. With his broom shrunken, he started his search of finding the rotten apple that would once again serve as his Portkey; that would take him back to Beauxbatons. He knew Madame Maxime always sent it to the forest; even when he actually _did_ go home for the holidays. But as Draco arrived at the usual spot; a clearing in a circular shape surrounded by trees — the apple wasn't there. Under rocks, under leafs, under the soil — the apple was nowhere to be found.

Panic raced through his heart and mind as he searched the clearing for the fifth time; turning every _something_ around to find nothing underneath it at all. Why had Madame chosen a rotten apple, anyway? She always picked the most scrubby things for him of all — as if she was testing wether he could stand picking up such an item.

What if she had sent the apple to the Manor — totally forgotten she usually sent it to the forest? The panic spread, his body now trembling to the bone. He couldn't go home; he couldn't explain to his parents where he had been and certainly not with _whom_. Draco took a glance upon his timepiece, one he had borrowed from his mother as his own had been given to Harry, and noticed that he had only a few more minutes left before the Portkey would leave without him — make him unable to return to Beauxbatons.

After yet another thorough search, Draco knew for sure it wasn't there. _It must be at the Manor_ , he concluded. His feet already dragged him in its direction; the house towering above the trees like an angry demon. The little windows were darkened, only a few on the ground floor lighted up with the warm glow of a fireplace. A hedge surrounded the property; a magical one that would keep all trespassers away by strangling them to near death and blasting off the most awful alarm — but Draco knew a weak spot somewhere to the left; a small opening that he had discovered as a child. He hurried himself towards it, found it almost immediately and slipped through it as if it didn't contain any dark magic at all. The elaborate garden of the Manor doomed up in front of his eyes; hedges cut in the shape of peacocks and white animals alike passing by as he made his way closer to the house. A few roses to his left, colored red like blood and lilies to the right, reflecting the pale moonlight and blinding Draco's eyes.

As he neared the Manor itself, he could see the silhouette of his mother, standing in front of one of the windows and looking at the garden with a blank face. She looked somber and held a hand to her neck — upon a medallion Draco knew contained a photograph of him as a five-year old. That very medallion had been Draco's inspiration for Harry's gift; knowing that it had always given his mother the feeling that he was somehow there, beside her, all the time. He hid behind one of the peacock-figured hedges and watched her from afar, glanced upon his timepiece to notice there were only two minutes left. The panic in his body turned to hysteria as he had no idea where that damned rotten apple could — be… His eyes that had still been set on his mother had followed her look — had moved themselves to the object she was so blankly staring at; a rotten apple, all abandoned in the middle of the large field of grass.

At least five jumps it would take for him to get there — for him to take ahold of it and wait for it to twirl him away into time. He quickly calculated how long it would take him and ended up with five seconds — five terribly long seconds when one's mother was staring at the object that had to be obtained. He only had half a minute left, had to think fast and decided to cast a spell he had learnt from his Prefect; one the boy had called 'the shooting star spell'. Without hesitation he pronounced the incantation and sent a sparkle of yellow flying over the grassy field, all the way to the right of the garden. He could see his mother's eyes follow it, look at it in confusion and Draco knew it was then or never. Hurrying himself over the field, running faster than he ever had before, he threw himself onto the ground, his hand around the rotten apple, just in time to feel his body swirl away into time. Yet, Draco couldn't help but feel like just before he had disappeared, his mother's eyes had looked his way.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

'What happened to you?' The twins were waiting by the carriage, both their arms crossed and eyebrows frown.

Knees with green grass stains, his hair a disheveled mess, little pieces of hedge stuck to his jumper and an exhausted look upon his face were enough to make the twins worry Draco had been exchanged by someone else during those two short weeks. ' _C'est une longue histoire_ ,' he answered, letting out a long breath before collapsing into Ansel's arms. 'Hold me for I can no longer stand of exhaustion.'

The twins chuckled at his words and Ansel's comforting hand patted him on the back. As they sat upon the benches again, a few first-years glancing at Draco with curious eyes, Draco told the twins all about his mission to capture the rotten apple that was his Portkey. They laughed but were worried at the same time; especially at the mention of thinking to have seen his mother's eyes. 'At least it weren't _papa's_ eyes,' was his reply, but the twins still weren't convinced his mother's eyes were any better.

They arrived around midnight, the moon shining its brightest and throwing near-blue light upon the chateau. In the book _Beauxbatons; Une longue histoire_ , one could read the speculation to why the distinct color of the school was a pale blue — it's founder had seen the newly-built chateau finished for the first time under a midnight's moon and had seen it's white color transformed to a blue so pale it was simply mesmerizing. And as Draco looked at the chateau with the same eyes as its founder; he couldn't agree with him more.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_Dear Draco,_

_For the first time in months I can finally give you some positive news; all the members of the D.A. can now successfully cast a corporeal Patronus charm! It was truly amazing to see so many blue animals run around our practicing room; interacting with each other in unique ways and resembling their owners perfectly. Of course not everyone was able to produce one from the start but after a lot of practicing; I must say I couldn't be more proud of what we've achieved. Hermione says it's all my doing but I can assure you that if it wasn't for her calmness, I would have already quit after our first meeting together._

_Umbridge tried to send our divination professor away, but fortunately professor McGonagall and professor Dumbledore were able to stop her actions. She isn't allowed to teach divination anymore, though, but at least she won't be homeless like Umbridge had planned to make her. She's also after Hagrid; wants him gone as well and finds him irresponsible and unskilled for teaching us about Magical Creatures. I myself think there isn't anyone better to teach us about dangerous creatures than Hagrid; he's probably the only one in the whole world who adores them._

_With that said, you now know things still aren't going that well at Hogwarts. I've seen a lot of younger students with the same scars on their hands as mine; all from that terrible quill. I once again hope things are better at Beauxbatons, even though she has her claws partly wrapped around your school as well._

_I still think a lot about what we witnessed during the holidays; that arrest of mister Cuffe. She's silencing people for thinking they're choosing Dumbledore's side, believing his words; but why doesn't she just silence Dumbledore himself instead? Does she, and the Ministry overall, perhaps fear his Magical powers? Or do they simply not have enough evidence to restrain him?_

_With love,_

_James_

 

_☾ *:･ﾟ✧_

 

_My beloved James,_

_Words can't describe how incredibly proud I am of you to teach all of your friends a corporeal Patronus charm! I wish I was there to witness it; I'm sure my swan would have loved to swim around other animals and interact with them as well._

_Umbridge's rules haven't really been put to action here, besides from a few that have become a little more strict; there are set curfew times now, for example. There aren't silly rules like the six-inch one nor does Madame Maxime punish us with quills that leave scars. But she has been acting strange lately, Madame, a bit sorrowful; perhaps Umbridge is somehow putting pressure on her anyway? I frightens me a bit and makes me wary of what the future will bring for our Educational System._

_Believe me when I say that there soon enough will come a time when the Ministry will go after Dumbledore himself; with Umbridge at the front personally guiding him to Azkaban. And yes, I also believe that they don't have enough evidence yet, but that they shortly will. What this evidence will be; I do not know, but I know that it'll be enough._

_Yours truly,_

_Draco_

 

_☾ *:･ﾟ✧_

 

The boy's table was especially quiet that morning as Draco ate his toast, waited eagerly for the owls to arrive and bring in their letters. A tree branch painted gold was placed upon the dining chamber's tables every Monday morning for the animals to land on, and Draco couldn't keep his eyes off of it. 'If you stare any longer at that thing it might disappear,' André pointed out. He himself had never really been interested about what his parents wrote him — quite the opposite to his brother who was always just as eagerly waiting as Draco for his letters to arrive.

The two boys gave André a glare and then got shaken out of their little angry moment by a hoot announcing the arrival of owls. More hoots followed, and a barn owl appeared at the front; it's heart-shaped face proudly holding a letter in its beak. It flew to Draco with elegant fluttering of wings and landed on the golden post in front of him, the letter in its beak sealed with the Hogwarts crest. A smile appeared on Draco's face as he took it from his owl, opened it immediately to read what his dear Harry had to tell him this week.

_Dear Draco,_

_Let's just say that things have gone from wrong to_ _terribly_ _wrong since the last time I wrote you. I know you remember Cho Chang; she's a part of the D.A. as well. Well, at least she was as she has betrayed us… She's just as much a snitch as the flying golden thing she always catches after! We knew already since the beginning Umbridge had a suspicion about a club, but she never knew where to find us as the door to our special room wouldn't appear for her. But with the exact location told by Cho, a simple bombardia was enough to blow one of the enchanted walls away._

_We all have detention until the end of the school year, but that's not the worst of all; Professor Dumbledore had to disappear. She dragged me and Cho to his office; the Minister and an Auror by her side. It was just what we had been fearing, Draco; that they would find a little bit of evidence that would be enough to take Dumbledore away from Hogwarts. And yet, that's still not all of it; Dumbledore took all the blame! He told Umbridge and Fudge that it was his plan, that the D.A. was his doing! Can you believe it? I tried to reason with him, tried to explain that it truly was my idea and all my fault but he kept on saying it was his; as if he wanted to be responsible for it._

_But not to worry; he escaped, as grand as only he can. Felix took him away to Merlin knows where; but I hope he's safe and hiding at a place where no-one will find him. Umbridge was furious of course, ranting against the Minister about how absurd the man was. I bet they're currently looking for him with teams of Aurors, but I don't believe they'll be able to find him very soon._

_A lot of the D.A. members are scared now that our club has been exposed; they're afraid of the punishments Umbridge will have in store for them. I don't think we'll be able to meet at a different place, or even meet up at all. At least I'm glad I got to teach them a few useful spells already; hopefully it's enough for them when darker days arrive._

_I'll keep you updated on the situation here but I must admit it's getting rather difficult to send and receive letters without having Umbridge read them first. How much I still adore you for that pseudonym._

_With love,_

_James_

A pastel blue chair hit the ground as Draco rose from his seat in anger; that Cho Chang again — always interfering Harry's life _somehow_. His cheeks were burning and he felt dozens of eyes casted upon him; the silence from the dining chamber disturbed by Draco's fury. 'What's wrong?' Ansel asked him, pulling his robes to get him to sit down again. Whenever the twins were making a scene; it didn't really matter — but when their best friend was making one; it was possibly the end of the world. And it worried the boys, Draco could see that by their facial expressions. Draco sat down again and balled his hands into fists, the parchment of Harry's letter crumbling slightly underneath his fingers.

'Just — snitches,' he answered with closed eyes, biting his teeth and clenching his jaw.

Ansel frowned his eyebrows. 'Snitches? Thought you weren't interested in Quidditch, _non_?'

Draco let out a deep sigh and read Harry's letter again; at least Dumbledore had managed to escape. His prediction had come true though; the Ministry was now officially after the Headmaster with a reason — with the evidence they needed. 

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_Harry_

As if Umbridge her detentions weren't tough enough already; Snape still wanted to continue with his lessons in Occlumency. They had already tried around three times, but every time the professor had ended their little class after a single try — saying that Harry wasn't concentrating enough. That day, their fourth try, was looking as doomed as ever as Snape seemed to be in the most terrible mood.

Black stones, the green light of the Lake's water shining through the small windows; Snape's classroom was macabre as could be and certainly not inviting. As Harry entered the room, Snape immediately pushed Harry down on one of his chairs, rolled up his sleeves just a bit to clear his wrists and prepared his wand without Harry preparing his mind. Flashes of Draco smiling, his long hair blowing in his face when walking by the lake and the two of them dancing at the Yule Ball flashed in front of his eyes again — just like they had done the previous times. Somehow it always seemed as if the same memories were popping up and Snape seemed to notice as well as he drew back and gave Harry a glare of dissatisfaction. 'Try harder, Potter! I have no intention on seeing those memories for the fifth time again,' he muttered.

Harry clenched his jaw and looked away for just a second, tried to concentrate his mind but Snape's wand got pointed at his head again, the dark wood only a few inches away from his eyes. Pale blue, a row of shining white teeth followed by locks of silver, long hair and the smell of lemons; Harry's mind got filled with the same memories again, but this time Snape didn't draw back after the Yule Ball memory, kept his eyes wandering in Harry's mind. 'Try harder,' he heard the professor repeat as he saw Draco take off his Weasley jumper, the beautiful scar shaped as that of a butterfly gracing his chest.

Snape drew back again and Harry felt his heart race; drops of sweat run down his forehead as he tried to figure out what was reality and what wasn't. 'That's — that's private!' he managed to get out, looking up into Snape's eyes.

'Nothing is private to the Dark Lord, Potter. He will only use those _pathetic_ memories of you and that boy against you!' Snape squinted his eyes and sighed deeply. 'Control is something your witty little mind doesn't seem to possess,' he then declared. 'Guess you inherited that flaw from your father.'

'Don't say a word about my father!' An anger he had felt waiting in his chest earlier had now come to the surface, escaped from his mouth at the mention of the father he had never got to know. Hearing his professor ramble such a thing about the man was too much for Harry together with the exposed memories of him and his lover.

'I say what I want about your father as I knew him better than anyone else — the arrogant, _lazy_ man that he was-'

'Stop it!' Harry shouted. He had drawn his wand without realizing, now pointing it at his Potions' professor's head with a trembling grip.

'Pointing a wand at a professor, Potter? Twenty-five points from Gryffindor. Now sit back down and concentrate!' Snape spat out as a response but Harry didn't even budge, bit down on his teeth again and felt more anger leave from his heart to the tip of his wand. 'Fine; then stand.' A new legimency spell got casted from Snape's wand; its pale white color bursting in Harry's direction — but with the single flick of his wrist, Harry casted a _protego_ in return and felt himself get dragged into a void as if he had used a Portkey against Snape instead of a wand.

A world slowly took shape around him, from a blurry image to the strokes of an impressionist his painting to clear reality. He was outside, had landed next to a tree he had sat many times before with his friends — a tree close to the Lake with the best view on the school's squid. Only this time a little boy no older than eleven was seated against its trunk, reading a book on Potions. His black, greasy hair made Harry immediately recognize him as a younger version of Snape.

Harry then heard footsteps near, turned his head to the right to see the perfect resemblance of himself storm towards younger Snape, a wand drawn and a smirk on his face. It was his father — accompanied by young Remus and Sirius — making his way to Snape. 'What are you doing here, Snivellus? That's our spot,' his father called out.

The moment flashed by, leaving in white particles as if snow was falling between memories and Harry caught glimpses of several times where his father and friends bullied young Snape; smirks on their faces as if they didn't seem to care about his feelings at all. It hurt Harry to see his father that way; it was a side he had never thought his father had possessed in his youth.

Amidst it all, he also saw something else that drew his attention; Draco was there in the memories of Snape. Of course that wasn't possible — Harry realized that fast enough — but it was Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, who seemed to be in his seventh year. Long, silver hair waved behind him as he hurried himself over to Snape after being hit by a Jelly-Leg Jinx. He seemed to soothe the boy, whispered to him that he would teach him some useful defense spells if wanted. Harry glanced from the pair to the caster of the Jinx, only to see his father yet again laughing with his friends. Had Snape and Lucius Malfoy been friends as well?

At exactly that moment he got pulled out of Snape's head; back into his scruffy Potions classroom. The professor looked disheveled and worn out, took ahold of the table behind him and seemed to be panting of exhausting. 'Sir, I—,' Harry began but Snape raised a hand to silence him.

'Out,' he said, but Harry had no plan to leave.

He needed an explanation; he needed to know why his father had been acting that way towards him and how he knew Lucius Malfoy. And more importantly; wether he _still_ knew him or not. 'You know Draco's father,' he said to Snape. 'You should have known the boy in my memories was his son.'

'Out,' was all the professor repeated.

'No, I need to know wether you're still in contact with him. He's — he's _evil_! He's on _his_ side!'

'Get out now, Potter!'

Hearing the anger in Snape's voice, and seeing his hand slowly point itself at Harry again — the black wand clutched in it — Harry knew it was definitely time to leave. He didn't want to; but he had to, if he didn't want to be hit by a Jelly-Leg Jinx or something far worse as well. He left the dungeons feeling utterly exhausted yet wide awake by his new discoveries. Not only had he found out his father used to bully other students, he had also found out about Snape being friends with Draco's father.

But didn't that mean that his father had known Lucius Malfoy as well? And therefore Sirius and Remus too? Yet, when Draco had visited Grimmauld Place only Arthur Weasley had seemed to be upset by his presence — Sirius nor Remus caring about it at all. _Strange._

Harry nearly ran back to the Gryffindor tower, eager to write a letter to Sirius and Remus to ask them for explanation. Perhaps he should also write Draco a letter; ask if he knew Snape or had ever heard his father talk about him. It then hit Harry that if Lucius Malfoy and Snape were still friends — he may still know that Harry and Draco were together; that their relationship hadn't just been nothing and was still being continued. Maybe Snape even told him about the memories he had seen in Harry's mind. Maybe Snape was even on _his_ side as well. 

Harry froze, leaned against a wall as he thought what that would mean for Draco if his father would know — if Snape was indeed on _his_ side and his father knew they were still together. _No_ , Harry told himself. _He isn't on his side otherwise Dumbledore had fired him as a professor already a long time ago._ He walked a few steps further but a little voice then interrupted his thoughts again. _But remember what you heard last year in the pensieve, about Karkarov confessing the names of other Death Eaters— hadn’t he mentioned Snape's name?_

Harry shook his head. _Professor Dumbledore had said that Snape had changed — that he had bettered his life._ Well, it obviously didn't look that much better but Harry believed Dumbledore's words above those of others — even that of himself sometimes.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_Harry,_

_As you wrote similar letters to Moony and I, we decided it was best if we just answered you in one. First of all; don't believe all the things you have seen of heard about your father from_ _Sniv_ _Snape's mouth. We used to tease him a bit, yes, but he was just as awful to us as we were to him. See it as the rivalry you have with that one blond boy from Slytherin you mentioned a few times; the one that called Hermione names and always picks a fight with Ron. You have to see those memories from you father's eyes as well to know he wasn't so evil as Snape portrayed him. Remember that he was a good man, Harry — and a good father as well for the single year he had you._

_Moony and I indeed knew Malfoy as well, but only for a year; he was a seventh year and we were new, in our first year at Hogwarts. Therefore we never really got to know him, but he seemed to like Snape somehow and stuck up for him a lot of times. A sneaky boy, he was, and always interfered himself with problems that weren't his. Merlin, did that boy have long hair; longer than any of the girls at Hogwarts back then._

_I don't really know if Snape and him are still friends; it's not like we organize yearly meet-ups with our entire year from Hogwarts, but if you really want an answer from me; I think they still are. There is just something about their personalities that went really good together; it totally clicked between the two of them when it came to vile things and the Dark side of Magic. Moony also wants to add to it that Malfoy is a Death Eater as well; just like Snape was. And haven't they both talked their ways out of evil when You-Know-Who was defeated the first time?_

_Anyway, Harry, we hope we cleared up some things for you and are sincerely sorry to hear about that pink woman finding out about your secret club._

_Padfoot_

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_My beloved James,_

_Papa is acting strange. And with that, I mean even stranger than usual. I have already received three letters this week of him; asking wether I want to come home and not giving me an exact reason for it whatsoever. His third letter even demanded my return; but I answered that I can't go away right now due to classes and tests. Not to mention that our exams are coming up shortly as well; why would he want to take me away from school during such an important time? Will something happen at Beauxbatons of which he wants to keep me safe from? Perhaps I should inform Madame Maxime about it._

_I also can't help but feel that it has something to do with that Portkey at the end of the holidays; with maman seeing the faintest glimpse of me in the Manor's gardens. She hasn't mentioned any of it in her letters, but somehow it still doesn't feel right. Especially not now that papa's writing me these strange letters._

_Is Umbridge perhaps up to something at Hogwarts again? I am still furious about Cho Chang snitching on the D.A. the way she did… I never liked her that much in the first place. It's an awful thing now that you can't teach others proper defense spells; what if the Dark Lord will show up again out of nowhere? How will the students of Hogwarts defend themselves? By throwing their Defense book against his head? I hope your punishment isn't too hard; I don't wish to see any more of those scars on your beautiful hands._

_Madame's regulations have stayed the same as they always were; Umbridge her influence isn't noticeable here at all. I've tried to talk to her about it, but she seems just as furious at the woman as we are. Perhaps they had a kind of disagreement, and I hope for her it won't result in her resignation._

_About headmaster Dumbledore's disappearance or escape, however you want to call it; I believe you won't have to worry about him too much. He'll be fine, James; he's one of the greatest Wizards, isn't he? And I don't know about you but to me that sounds like he'll be alright, don't you think? How I admire him for coming up with such a brilliant plan to disappear by using a phoenix; I would've loved to have seen it with my own pair of eyes!_

_I have seen professor Snape faintly at Hogwarts last year, but don't remember him visiting the Manor. But there are often dark-clothed figures hiding underneath hoods that visit papa; Dark wizards he does some shady businesses with and perhaps he was one of them? I'm sorry I can't really help you with the matter, James; I really don't know with whom papa is friends with. It would surprise me if he even has friends at all, to be honest._

_Please write me again soon and keep me updated; I believe some things will change now that the D.A. has been discovered, and I don't think the changes will be for the better. I am worried about you, James, and therefore you must keep me updated as much as you can._

_Yours truly,_

_Draco_

 

_☾ *:･ﾟ✧_

 

 

Reading the reply of the worrying letter he had sent Sirius and Remus; Harry felt a bit better about what he had seen from his father — the memories of Snape's mind. Draco's letter had worried him; made him wonder to why Lucius Malfoy was trying to take his son away from his beloved school. It was a pity that Draco didn't know wether his father was friends with Snape; but at least there was a possibility that Snape had been one of those dark-clothed figures Draco had seen.

Orange light filled the Gryffindor common room — the flames of a burning fire dancing against the walls. Hermione was seated next to him, Crookshanks on her lap as she flipped through her third book of the night — Harry no further than through half of his first. They were studying for their O.W.L.s and Harry could feel his eyelids getting heavier and heavier with every line he read. Ron had quit studying already an hour ago; was now lounging on the carpet in front of the fireplace and sorting his Chocolate Frog cards. 'Have you heard anything interesting from Draco recently?' Hermione suddenly asked. It drew both Harry's and Ron's attention and the boys stared at their female friend as if she had awoken them from a deep sleep.

'Just that his father's acting strange again — even more strange, that is,' Harry answered her. 'Why?'

Hermione shrugged and closed her book. 'Remember his letters from last summer? I haven't read them, of course, but I remember you telling us a thing or two about them,' she started.

'So?' Harry raised an eyebrow and saw Ron do the same. 'Do you mean him warning me about the fact that something was going to happen? Because something already _did_ happen, Hermione — don't know if you're aware of it.'

Hermione rolled her eyes at his words. 'I don't mean the warning — I mean the part where he told you his father kept on mentioning this _prophecy_.'

'So?' Harry repeated.

'So; I had been thinking — as I connected it to the visions you have from the eyes of You-Know-Who — what if that prophecy has something to do with you? Or what if it's about you?'

Visions of orbs of glass in a cold blue light doomed up in front of Harry's eyes. Faint smoke swirled through them as if it was trying to take Harry into someone else's dream. Was that vision that of a prophecy? 'You think that the prophecy is kept in those glass orbs I keep seeing? The ones we use at Divination?'

Hermione nodded, seemed relieved at Harry understanding her theory. 'I've been reading about prophecies for hours now,' she then said, opening the book on her lap again and gesturing at the other two books she had abandoned next to her.'

'And all this time we were thinking you were studying so bloody hard,' Ron commented, a glare of Hermione's eyes following.

Hermione explained what she had discovered; how prophecies of certain value could be stored away in orbs of glass. A prophecy only came through a Seer's soul; Wizards or Witches that were highly skilled in Divination. A Seer would recite a prophecy involuntarily and wouldn't remember the event — making the listener of the prediction often the only witness. The prophecy then could be stored into an orb of glass to keep it for a future hearing — for when someone would need to hear it once again. To where they were kept, no-one seemed to mention in depth — only that it was a well-hidden and well-secured place.

Ron had grinned after hearing Hermione's explanation; found it highly amusing that she had suddenly become so interested in the subject she hated the most at school. Hermione had just slammed one of her books on his head, silenced him for the rest of the night.

Was it truly that what he saw in his visions, in his nightmares — or was it something else? Harry had no idea, and his head was already too full to add another theory to it. He had said his good-night to his friends, picked up the few books he had brought down for studying and had gone to bed — to hopefully dream of more peaceful things than brightly shining orbs of glass.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

A week went by filled with nothing but normality. Umbridge her decrees increased by the day, they studied as hard as they could for their exams and took classes until they fell asleep at their professor's words. But one thing had changed — one thing was different than all the weeks before; Harry hadn't received a single letter from Draco anymore. He had been eagerly waiting on Monday morning for Hedwig to fly in, drop a letter on his plate with the name 'James' beautifully written upon it in gold — but nothing. His plate had stayed empty and Hedwig had stayed in the owlery amongst the owls of others. Of course it had worried Harry; what if his father had indeed taken him home — was Draco safe there? What if Umbridge had overpowered Madame Maxime's way of ruling Beauxbatons?

Many theories went through Harry's mind as he blankly stared at a piece of parchment in front of him, placed on a wooden desk where he was seated to make his O.W.L.s exam. He had dozed off again, he realized, and stared at the parchment where he had only answered the first three questions — still had one-hundredth-forty-five to go. A loud sigh escaped his mouth, followed by the quick hushing of Umbridge's voice. He glanced up to see her eyes look in his direction; her puffy figure dressed in elaborate pink and the bow on her head larger than usual — perhaps she was celebrating the downfall of the fifth-years their exam points already before even correcting them.

With his eyes focused on the parchment again, he managed to answer four more questions before a banging sound announced that something wanted to come in — something wanted to enter the Great Hall that had been transformed into Hogwarts' largest classroom ever. Everyone ignored the single bang, kept their eyes on their exams until a second bang announced a certain urgency. A few heads turned, including Harry's, and stared at the giant doors of the Hall. A third bang resounded as well, now lifting everyone's head and making Umbridge get up to her feet. As she swiftly moved her chubby legs through the Hall, the amount of banging increased and became louder — more violent. As Umbridge reached the door, she hesitantly opened it and almost immediately fell on her plum bottoms as a hand made of fireworks pushed her aside. The hand waved at the other students, a few waving back, before exploding into sparks of orange. 

A silence fell over the students their heads as Umbridge crawled up to her feet again, wiped some dust off her pink two-piece. A silence, one known only came before a storm, then got interrupted by that storm as the Weasley twins made their way through the Great Hall — upon their brooms. Their hands were filled with sizzling sparks and they threw them upon their fellow students whom lifted their heads and watched them explode in front of their eyes. They cheered as their exams got blown away by a mystery wind, also throwing Umbridge onto the ground once again.

Harry rose from his seat as well, watched the twins cause quite the drama in the Great Hall with a bright smile upon his face. A dragon made of the most beautiful golden fireworks then exploded into the air, its sparks gliding over the students their heads and making its way to Umbridge. The pink lady crawled to her feet again — even faster than last time — and hurried herself through the door with the dragon following on her heels. The glass frames of her decrees exploded as the dragon did just the same, just outside the Great Hall where she had so neatly presented her rules to the students. Golden sparks flew everywhere at the explosion of the magical creature, landed around Umbridge's sulking figure.

As the Weasley twins flew out of the Hall again, all fifth years followed them; eager to know what else they would have in store. Harry also ran outside followed by his two best friends, still smiling brightly and cheering for the twins. Specks of ginger mixed themselves with equally ginger fireworks and the exploding sparks glittered down upon Harry's head — tiny purple stars extinguishing upon his sleeves. _How much I wish your were here_ , Harry thought with Draco in his mind. _You would have loved to see these fireworks._

He then suddenly seemed to lose the strength in his knees, his legs. They trembled, wobbled even as he fell to the ground and watched the students around him slowly fade. His eyes twirled away, into a new nightmare — into a new vision. Dark tiles with an emerald shine from floor to ceiling, gleaming a macabre light. Through doors, through rooms — the green light changing to blue. Glass orbs everywhere, the scream of a boy. Searching, running. The pale body of someone — the source of the scream. Silver hair, a face shining of fresh tears and a golden medallion around his neck.

A voice woke him, Hermione standing hunched above his figure. 'Harry, what's wrong?' she asked, Ron joining by her side. Harry could still see the last of the twins their fireworks explode above his best friends' heads, his eyes unwilling to focus on any of it.

'Draco,' he panted — suddenly feeling exhausted after having a vision in broth daylight. 'He's in danger!' Harry crawled up to his feet again with the help of his friends, his heart beating in his throat as he kept on seeing Draco's lifeless body upon that dark tiled floor. 'I saw him through _his_ eyes,' he explained to his friends. Hermione gave him a worrying look, placed a hand upon his shoulder. 'He's at the Ministry again, just like your father was, Ron!'

His best friends then gave each other a questioning look. 'At the Ministry? Why would you think that?' Hermione asked. 'And isn't Draco at Beauxbatons?'

Harry bit his lip as he remembered Draco's last letter; telling him about his father demanding him to come home. 'I'm not so sure about that, actually. His last letter had me feeling quite worried about his situation, and he hasn't sent me another one since. Besides; we don't have any time to lose — he might be hurt!'

Without waiting for a second longer, he stormed away from the crowd into the castle again. He pushed students aside, heard more explosions and the screeching voice of Umbridge demanding the twins to come down and stop immediately. Harry quickly glanced over his shoulder, noticed that his friends were following and felt his chest fill with a warm feeling; they always had his back, no matter how absurd his ideas may sound. He didn't know where he was running off to — perhaps to find a Floo somewhere to take them to the Ministry. _Anything_ , as long as he could save Draco.

'But Harry—,' Hermione started, catching up with Harry's quick pace and running by his side. 'What if Voldemort wanted you to see that? What if it's a trick?'

Harry stopped immediately, an expression of utter shock on his face. 'And what if it isn't? Should I just leave Draco to die?'

'That's not what I meant, Harry. We just — we can't be sure.'

'Of course we can't,' Ron interrupted. Both Harry's and Hermione's eyes stared in his direction, had forgotten he was there as well for just a moment. 'But he's after something at the Ministry, isn't he? I mean — when my father was attacked he had also been there, just like you mentioned before, Harry. He was probably guarding something for the Order. And now Draco's at the Ministry as well — also attacked. There must be a connection, right?'

'That's — that's actually very clever of you, Ronald,' Hermione admitted. 'I think I found out where one stores their prophecy,' she then said.

Puzzle pieces fell into place in Harry's mind as well; of course the prophecies were stored at the Ministry of Magic — the most secure and safe place beside from Hogwarts. 'So you think that that's what he's after? That the prophecy is something he couldn't get when he attacked Arthur? And that it's at the Ministry?' Hermione nodded at his words. 'Then there's another reason to go to the Ministry right now — wether Draco's there or not. We have to keep the prophecy from his hands!'

Harry took off again but Hermione snatched him by his arm. 'You don't understand, Harry!' Turning back around, he looked in the worrying eyes of his best friend. 'That's just what he wants — that's what will give him the prophecy; you coming to the Ministry. He needs you there as he knows you're the only one to know where to find it.'

Swallowing at her words, Harry couldn't help but agree— but Draco was in danger and wether it was real or not, he wouldn't take the risk of having him die. He loved him too much for that. He hadn't spent enough time with him yet. They were supposed to remain together until the end of time — until they would become as old as Nicolas Flamel. Until—

'Harry!' Hermione snapped him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to his senses.

'I'm going to the Ministry anyway, Hermione. And you either go with me or stay here,' he declared.

Hermione glanced at Ron, hoping to find some support but Ron seemed to have made the decision to follow Harry's plan; nodded at his best friend with much confidence. 'Fine,' Hermione decided. 'You two won't survive a minute without me anyway.'

'And we want to help you as well, Harry,' a small voice then announced. Harry turned around to see Luna, Neville and Ginny stand behind them. Where in Wizarding hell had they suddenly come from? 'You also shouldn't go by the Floo network.'

Harry blinked a few times with his eyes; not only amazed to suddenly see three of his friends stand by his side, but also by how Luna had been able to read his mind's plan without asking. 'How did you know I wanted to go by Floo?' Luna shrugged casually.

'Then how do you recommend us to get there?' Ron asked.

'By flying Thestrals, of course,' was Luna's answer.

Harry smiled at the idea. 'Sounds like a good plan, Luna.'

And off they went, running the other way again to the Forbidden forest with a plan in their heads on how to get there but still making one on how to actually get in. As they ran from the castle to the trees, Harry couldn't help but ask where his three friends had suddenly come from. Ginny explained that Hermione had called for them using the enchanted Galleons; that they were the only three brave enough to answer the call for help. Harry glanced over his shoulder at Hermione, cheeks a crimson color making her face glow. 'Knew you wouldn't stay here — that you had to go save him. Might as well take some extra wands with us, right?' Harry blessed his friend right there and then; for just how clever she was and always seemed to know what he was going to do next.

The Thestrals greeted them as if they had been awaiting their arrival, half of the group looking around the forest aimlessly to try and find the animals Luna had so animately been talking about. 'I can't see them, can you?' Ron asked his sister but Ginny shook her head.

'That's because you haven't seen someone die,' Luna explained. 'Harry has seen Cedric die, and I my mother.'

'I can see them as well,' Neville admitted. 'I witnessed my grandfather's death.' He placed a hand on one of the Thestrals' heads and smiled.

After helping their friends climb on the for them invisible animals, Harry climbed on one as well and waited for Luna to give a sign for the Thestrals to take off; it was her idea so Harry found it only natural that she would guide the group in the right direction. 'Do they know where to go?' Hermione asked her, hanging on to her Thestral's neck with dear life.

'Yes; they kind of sense it. Now, let's go!' Luna announced.

Black wings, almost like leather, took off into the sky. The last bit of sunshine shone upon their heads as they flew higher and higher, further away from Hogwarts. A bit of smoke hung above the courtyard, faint memories of firework explosions that had lent them the opportunity to get away unnoticed.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

'How are we ever going to find him here?' Hermione asked in a hushed tone, looking around the room to see herself get reflected by hundreds of shining prophecies.

'I know a way,' Harry answered, taking out the timepiece he got from Draco. It moved slightly, but Harry noticed it was just ticking seconds away like a normal clock would do. 'It's not working,' he said with a sigh — but it was too early; the big hand moved to number twelve all of a sudden, staying there and pointing to the dark aisle in front of them. 'This way!' he announced, already running in the direction the big hand was pointing him in. His feet couldn't keep up with his adrenaline, with his need to bring Draco to safety. He was there; it hadn't been a dream. Turning right and then left again, passing rows and rows of glass orbs in their way, they finally came to a halt in the center where four aisles met. Harry watched how the big hand kept spinning around in circles, declaring that Draco was exactly there were they were standing. 'It doesn't make sense,' he said, sighing deeply. 'He should be here.'

'There's something on the floor,' Luna pointed out and bended through her knees to pick up something, then reached out the smallest golden item for Harry to take.

A medallion he recognized all too well was placed in the palm of his hand, and he immediately checked wether the one underneath his jumper was still there; hoping that it was just his own that he had lost, but noticing that it was still there — there was only one conclusion left. 'Draco's medallion,' he said, throwing his friends a worrying glance. His medallion was here — but where was the boy himself?

Footsteps then silenced his thoughts, resounded through the Hall of Prophecies like landing feathers; soft and silently creeping towards them in the dark. He felt the eyes of someone luring at him, at the prophecy he held in his hand. They still had their wands drawn, a bright Lumos enlightening a circle of blue light around them.

They had found Harry's prophecy by looking for the numbers and letters that had doomed up in his mind — that had held some meaning that had only become clear minutes ago. As they had obtained it, they all had thought something would've happened — that it would have become clear to why Voldemort wanted the prophecy so badly. But it hadn't done anything — and neither Harry nor his friends had known what to do with it. They also had no idea wether they should destroy it or keep it safe, but they had decided to go with the second option and had taken the orb with them on their search to find Draco and bring him to safety must he be harmed.

But now the prophecy felt heavy in his hand, the smoke swirling in a mysterious way as the glass reflected a dark silhouette nearing them. The figure was wearing a mask with a delicate design and strode his way down the aisle in front of them. Not knowing what to say, Harry asked the only question that truly mattered to him at that moment. 'Where's Draco?' His voice echoed through the large room and seemed to stop the figure in its pace.

'I thought you would know the difference between dreams — and reality,' the dark figure answered, his mask disappearing with a flick of his wand; revealing the face of a man he had seen before; a man he knew as Draco's father. Lucius Malfoy was standing before him, his silver hair draped over his shoulders like Draco's once had done. 'You saw what the Dark Lord wanted you to see, Potter.'

'But — but your son-,'

'Draco is safely at home, where he's supposed to be. Probably writing letters to James again,' Lucius told him. 'Pity I will have to tell him James won't be writing back.' Harry clenched his jaw at the man's words. How dared he use his own son as bait? Harry's mind didn't get it — he had never known the love of a real father but if his had been like Lucius; he found having non not even that bad. 'Now give me the prophecy!' the man demanded.

His grip around the glass orb tightened as he shook his head slowly. 'Never! I don't know what it means, but I do know that it must be protected from _him_!'

Lucius Malfoy sighed deeply. 'Has Dumbledore truly told you nothing?'

Dumbledore? _What does Dumbledore have to do with it,_ Harry thought to himself. But he didn't have much time to think as spots of darkness crept their way into the corner of his eyes — more dark figures neared from different aisles. Harry's hand trembled slightly, but he was confident at the same time. Lucius Malfoy was trying to distract him — was trying to make him hand over the prophecy so he could find out what it meant, what it said. 'It doesn't matter,' Harry replied. He swiftly glanced over his shoulder to see his friends point their wands at the other figures, waiting for Harry to give them a sign to attack. 'Now!' His voice shouted, followed by casted spells.

The figures disappeared into smoke — _gone_. The sudden silence made Harry able to hear his own panting, his fastened heartbeat and he gestured for his friends to follow him. To where; he had no idea — but they had to get out of the Ministry right away. As they ran down the aisle, smoke as tall as the atrium's statue appeared in front of them again — fading away into the figure of Draco's father. 'Give me the prophecy, Potter,' he demanded again.

As Harry shook his head, they all turned around and ran away even faster — split up and all ran in another direction to fight a Death Eater of their own. Smoke rose from between the aisles, hands reached out to grab him by his clothes and tried to steal the prophecy from his hands, but Harry ran even faster and casted spells at those who dared to come closer. The reappearing figure of Lucius Malfoy kept demanding for the prophecy, kept reaching out a hand of his own for Harry to lay the orb in it each and every time— but he wasn't tempted by the offer, did however throw a few other orbs at the man's figure.

He bumped into his friends again at another crossing, their eyes all staring at the looming clouds of smoke. The Death Eaters stole Harry's idea of throwing orbs and soon rows and rows of them fell down, making everyone run as fast as their legs could take them before falling down into yet another new mystery room.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

The Order had appeared from golden smoke — similar to the Death Eaters but with a warm glow that only the good side could produce. He had given up the prophecy — laid it in the hands of Draco's father in exchange for the saving of his friends. But the man had dropped it, made it fall to smoke as well — a blue color this time so bright it lived up to the vivid colors of the Goblet of Fire Harry remembered from the year before. They had fought and both lost as won at the same time — sent Sirius his soul to the other side by going through a curtain of shining silver. Fallen to his knees Harry had screamed, wished he had helped Sirius with his battle against one of his own relatives. But it had been too late; his godfather was gone and would never return again.

Fighting the tears he was now running behind Bellatrix, his friends and the other members of the Order still fighting behind his back. As she cheered about killing Sirius Black, Harry casted spells at her — but his emotions made him miss each and every time. _Why can't I just kill her as well? Why can't I jus let her feel pain?_ And then he hit her right in the center of her spine. A heap of black curls and robes fell to the atrium's emerald floor, her wand slipping out of her hand. Harry kicked the bent piece of wood away, pointed his own wand at the woman's face.

Spells with terrible outcomes crossed his mind as he stood there, looking into the jet black eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange. _Crucio_ , he wanted to shout. Perhaps even _Adava Kedavra_ — but his mouth kept itself closed, his lips tightly shut on one another, but then he heard a snake-like hissing, a whispering voice in his head. He first thought it was his own, evil voice — that of a devil he didn't knew he kept in there — but it was _his_ voice; Voldemort was whispering to him that he should cast the terrible spells he had been thinking about — that he knew what they were called and exactly how to cast them.

Harry's hand trembled as he suddenly heard the voice resound through the atrium, filling it with that undertone of snake only Voldemort possessed. He turned his back to Bellatrix, faced the very monster again after a year of terrible nightmares and visions about him. His snake-like face, gleaming red eyes and robes of black silk sent shivers down Harry's spine and he automatically took a few step backwards.

With Harry's wand now pointed at the monster, he didn't even get the time to pronounce one of the many spells he knew — Voldemort simply flicked Harry's wand out of his hand without even trying. 'So — weak,' he said, staring into green eyes with red ones.

As a feeling of panic rose through Harry's body at losing his wand — at standing face-to-face with Voldemort without being able to defend himself — a fireplace to his left suddenly burned brightly. Green flames were sent from their ashes and within them appeared the two tall figures of professor Dumbledore and Draco — their faces blank but with a look of determination and fury in their eyes. 'D-Draco?' Harry stammered, his eyes the size of oranges as he stared at his lover in disbelief. _What is he doing here? And with Dumbledore?_

'Harry,' Draco replied, the right side of his mouth slightly lifting upwards — as if he wanted to smile but keep a straight face as well for the monster next to his lover. Wearing one of his many hats and dressed in well-fitted trousers in pale blue shades again, he couldn't have been a bigger contrast to the elder Wizards in the room whom seemed to be dressed in ancient Wizarding robes. Harry himself looked disheveled in his school robes and couldn't help but find it truly wonderful how Draco always dressed so well — even when coming into battle.

'Look at that,' Voldemort then said. 'Dumbledore has come to help you, Harry. And he brought Lucius his son — I've always wanted to meet you, Draco. Have you considered joining my Death Eaters as well?'

The furious look from Draco's eyes now filled his whole face; his eyebrows frown and his mouth a thin line as he took a step closer to the monster without hesitation. 'I will never join your side,' he said to him with hands balled to fists. If one could spit flames from his eyes; this definitely would have been the moment where Voldemort would've caught fire.

Dumbledore placed a hand atop of Draco's shoulder, whispered something to him that clearly made the muscles in his face relax. 'I already expected to find you here, Tom. Especially tonight,' Dumbledore said, turning himself to Voldemort. Draco slowly took a step aside but tightened the grip around his golden wand. 'The Aurors are on their way.'

Voldemort sneered at Dumbledore's words. Eyed the old man from head to toe as if he was disappointed in his opponent. 'By then I will be gone — and you'll be dead,' was his answer. Without giving Dumbledore another second to think about those words, his white wand casted a spell at the headmaster, Dumbledore immediately firing one back and defending both himself as Draco beside him.

Sparks of red bursted against green as the two men fought a battle of equal strength. Harry got blown away by the power of their magic — _literally —_ as he fell to the ground with Draco falling down right next to him as well. They both crawled away to one of the fireplaces, hiding behind the small wall as they watched the battle increase in intensity with every passing second. A brighter green light then filled the atrium as flames took Bellatrix away — the murderess of Harry's godfather escaping from the scene. Harry wanted to stand up again, go behind her, but Draco pulled him down. 'You can't leave now, Harry!' he told him, his grey eyes looking into his.

'Why are you here anyway? It's dangerous!'

'I'm here to save you — _et votre amis_.'

As if the word _amis_ had been magical; Harry's friends appeared at the Atrium as well, their wands still clenched in their hands as they got chased by the last pair of Death Eaters. 'We have to go and help them,' Harry said as he rose to his feet and ran to Ron's side, helped him battle against a dark clothed figure.

Draco followed him as well, joining by Luna's side and with the pair standing next to each other, Harry could've sworn they were brother and sister by their pale complexion and platinum blond hair. The French blasted curses at his opponent with the most elegant use of a wand Harry had ever seen; hitting the man right in his face and blasting him to the other side of the atrium as if it had been nothing. Distracted by his battling lover, he turned himself back to Ron whom was struggling to fight his own opponent. Just when Harry raised his wand again to help, a pink flash of light was blasted in the Death Eater's direction — throwing him onto the ground with his wand rolling out of his hand. Both Harry as Ron turned around to see Hermione tuck her wand away, a smirk on her face that gave her a heroic yet slightly terrifying look.

But their moment of victory got disrupted quite fast again as Dumbledore and Voldemort came closer to them, destroying the atrium's statue in their way and making it clatter to pieces on the tiled floor. Harry and his friends had to jump away to not get hit by gold, their hands on their heads as they waited for it all to be over. Voldemort produced a snake of fire from his wand, filling the whole room with burning flames. The heat was almost too much to handle but fortunately Dumbledore extinguished the flames with water before anyone could get burned by it, their clothes now soaking wet as they crawled to their feet and tried to find a better place to hide.

There was no hiding, they found out as Voldemort's next move was to break all the glass the atrium possessed — all the tiny windows from Ministry workers their offices shattering to pieces and raining down upon all of their heads. Harry looked at Draco whom was staring up at the rain of glass in slight shock — the sharp pieces only a few inches away. He threw himself on top of the boy to protect him, and felt a few shards stab him in the back before Dumbledore stopped them. Grey eyes stared in his with fright, Draco's lips saying _merci_ without being able to produce any sound. Harry ignored the scars the pieces of glass had left behind on his back, the itching feeling of them as he crawled to his feet and helped Draco to stand as well.

Dumbledore had transfigured the glass into sand; all of the atrium's floor now covered with it. And then he disappeared — the monster named Voldemort disappeared into the sand and for a second everyone thought he was gone, that he had fled away from a battle he couldn't win. But Harry could still feel his presence, his mind doing weird things and making his knees tremble. He fell to the ground again, into the sand and saw visions flash in front of his eyes — too fast to make any sense. 'Harry?' He heard Draco's voice say, saw a glimpse of his figure kneel beside him. It felt like he couldn't breathe anymore and he reached out for help, felt Draco's hand take his and Dumbledore come closer to him as well. Soon he was surrounded by all of his friends, but his eyes somehow kept themselves focused on his headmaster.

'You have lost,' he whispered to him, but it didn't sound like his own voice. It sounded like _his_. Flashes of his parents dying and others he didn't even know passed by, a pain as terrible as the curcio spell now filling his insides.

'Harry, it is not how you are alike — it is how you are not,' he heard Dumbledore say to him, but his voice sounded very vague — as if he was far away and could only be heard the slightest.

Voldemort had crawled inside him — had taken over his soul, but Harry wasn't planning on giving up. He fought the bad visions in his mind, replaced them for good ones; memories of him and Draco, of his friends, of Sirius and Remus. Filled with love. 'You're the weak one,' he stammered, and this time it _did_ sound like his own voice again. 'You'll never know love.'

When those words left his lips, Voldemort's soul finally left his body — floated away from it like smoke and took shape as his usual form again. Feeling exhausted and drained from it all, he looked up at the monster, noticed how Dumbledore pointing his wand at Voldemort again. 'Now, Draco,' the old man said — nearly demanded, and Harry felt Draco drag him a bit away, tighten his grip around Harry's hand.

'We're going,' he announced.

'Not — not without my friends,' Harry stammered as a response, looking around to see where his friends were actually. He then saw glimpses of them appear in his sight, a warm feeling filling his chest at knowing they were save.

' _Bien sûr_ ,' Draco said to him. 'Everyone, hold on to either me or Harry.'

Harry's friends followed without hesitation, kept their eyes glancing at the newly battle that had begun between Dumbledore and Voldemort — their only chance to get away safely before things would get worse again. Ron took Harry's other hand in his, Neville holding on to his leg and the three girls all clutched themselves to some part of Draco before Harry felt himself getting pulled away as if Draco had become a human Portkey.

They landed upon a marble flour with a loud bang, his head hurting from the fall and his mind still a bit blurry by Voldemort's take over. He heard his friends moan by the hard landing and he himself could feel a stabbing pain in his ribs, accompanied by the itching feeling of the scars the pieces of glass had left behind. He glanced up to see Draco stand next to him, hair all bewildered but with a satisfied look on his face. ' _Bievenue à Beauxbatons_ ,' he then said.

Harry had to blink a few times with his eyes before believing Draco's words, then noticed where they had landed and concluded there was no other place where they could have been; there was only one castle in the entire world that consisted out of such an amount of marble, gold and blue together. Tall windows shone in the orange sunlight — announcing that a new day had arrived and making everyone realize they had been fighting all night.

'Do you think we're safe here?' Ron asked. He had crawled up to his feet as well and was now standing next to Draco, taking in the elaborate sunroom where they had landed.

Draco nodded. 'Beauxbatons is under the same protection spells as Hogwarts — and we don't have that Umbridge here.'

'How did you actually do that?' Hermione then asked, crawling to her feet as well and glancing at Luna whom was observing one of the moving marble statues in the hallway. It tried to give her a marble flower but didn’t seem to realize it was attached to his hand, and therefore impossible to give away.

Draco opened his palm, making a paperclip appear — the object too small for everyone to see before it disappeared. 'A Portkey.' _So_ _it_ _had_ _indeed_ _been_ _that_ _feeling._

'But — but how,' Harry now asked. Draco only shrugged and helped him get up to his feet, his knees still a bit wobbly but his mind slowly clearing up again.

'I'll tell you another time — just know that you're all safe,' he replied with a smile. 'Now, time for a tour, _non_?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this chapter! I decided to leave the Umbridge part and whatnot away but I promise she will make another, different, appearance in the next chapter *hint*.


	4. Le château

 

**_C H A P T E R 1 4_ **

_Draco_

_Golden rays of sunlight had beamed upon the château of Beauxbatons, flowers had opened up and turned in their direction when he had come; demanding for his son to come home. Early morning it had been, Draco biting into a slice of toast when the blond man had stormed into the dining chamber. Purple had risen, facing black between blue; Madame had tried to reason with him in the aisle between the boys' and the girls' table, making Draco slowly fade away of embarrassment._

_He had stood up, faced his father and taken him out of there; not wanting to cause a bigger scene than was already caused. Locks of silver, reminding him of what used to be his own swept from left to right as his father pulled him through the hallway — convincing Draco with words that hadn't held any meaning._

_'But why, papa,' Draco had asked._

_Silence — besides the whisper of a spring's breeze as they had left the chateau and stood outside its golden gates. Grey eyes alike to his staring; their gaze worried and frightened but determined at the same time. 'I know who James is, Draco,' had been the man's answer; irrelevant to what Draco truly wanted to know — but oh so important as well._

_Feet had then ran away; Draco trying to escape from his father's claws and whatever the man wanted to do to keep him away from Harry — to hurt him. Knowing he had to inform his lover somehow, Draco had taken off and ran away from the gates of Beauxbatons. They had still been on the school's grounds — only a few feet away from a maze Draco found similar to the one Harry had faced last year. More feet had ran, as his father had followed him swiftly and called his name in an angry manner.  
_

_The wind had carried Draco's name to his ears, but his feet hadn't obeyed and had kept on running around hedges — with no plan nor goal in particular. A dead end; something he could've expected. It had been his downfall, the end. As the blond boy had fallen to his knees with his father only a corner away, he had felt lost and hopeless. There had been nothing left he could do — he would have to go home with the man he hated more than the Dark Lord himself._

_A hand with long fingers, as pale as the moon at night had reached out for his shoulder. Silver strands of hair had touched Draco's face as he had looked up to the man in front of him; a sigh following from the very figure himself. 'We must return for we must obey his orders,' his father had said before pulling the golden medallion from Draco's neck._

_Two hands with long fingers, as pale as the moon at night had reached out for what had been taken from him; but what would never be returned again. His father hid it in the inner pocket of his robes and hit his son's begging hands away. Tears of shining silver, reflecting gold in the sun's light had escaped from Draco's eyes. His Harry, his James —_ his lion _was being taken away._

_And he as well, as his father had apparated them away._

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_The Manor had been cold, his mother's face grim as his father had dragged him into the house by the collar of his school's uniform. Another silence had fallen as they had stood in the entrance hall, three figures normally radiating love for each other now radiating pure hate — despise for one another and utter disappointment. 'You will go to your room and stay there,' his father had demanded. 'One of the house-elves will bring you something to eat.'_

_'Lucius, we can't lock him up like a prisoner,' his mother had interrupted. Draco had thought she had lost her voice, her ability to fight against the man she loved — but it had appeared to be different as she had opened her mouth to defend her son._

_But his father had just sighed, waved his wife's words away with frowned eyebrows of a greater worry. 'Only for now, Narcissa. Until_ he _has the prophecy.'_

 

_☾ *:･ﾟ✧_

 

_An escape. Draco had known the man wouldn't abandon him like that after everything he had done for him; after he had taken care of him after an escape of his own. A portkey had been placed on his windowsill — the window opened slightly to let a cold wind attract Draco's attention._

What's an old shoe doing here _, Draco had wondered at first — but had shortly after realized what it was as it had been shaking softly; doing something only a portkey did._

 _Quickly grabbing his wand from his desk, leaving a half-written letter to Harry behind, Draco had taken ahold of the shoe and had felt himself getting pulled away — away from the Manor and his parents; away from_ him _._

_It had brought him back to Beauxbatons; the golden gates once again rising in front of him as if he hadn't left at all. Cautious, he had looked around. Grey eyes had caught a few crows staring at him with gleaming black eyes of their own, the chateau in front of him throwing its shadow to his feet. He had heard the littlest sounds of the grounds around him — the cheering of an ongoing Quidditch match and the nearing footsteps of the Wizard he knew had saved him; Headmaster Dumbledore._

_Dressed in pale blue robes borrowed from the French school, he had approached Draco with a cheeky smile — one of contentment and even slight happiness to see the boy again. A hand, the man had reached out and Draco had taken it without hesitation — had felt himself getting pulled into the swirl of apparation before they landed in a room he knew all too well; a room he had kept hidden from anyone at Beauxbatons. A rich smell, alike to that of Christmas, had filled his head again with joy. A cozy looking sofa had been placed next to a burning fireplace, a few books piled up on its mantel and even a small bed pushed into a corner. A perfect hiding place._

_'Does Madame know?' Draco had asked._

_Headmaster Dumbledore had confirmed his question with a nod. 'Of course.'_

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

 _Without a warning, without preparation — Dumbledore had announced they were going into battle. It had been in the middle of the night; stars had shone bright and the smallest window in their hidden room had shown them that fact. Draco had been asleep, claiming the sofa as his, but had been awoken by the old man's hand and his voice declaring such words. Without asking a single question, Draco had jumped up and gotten dressed in the few clothes he had been able to sneak out of his room. He hadn't been able to return to his classes just like that — to his room — to his life; his father could always find out he was gone, come look for him at Beauxbatons again. Or other students could see him and inform his father about it as well. Even Madame then wouldn't have the power to protect him; to keep him away from his father_ again _._

_With his wand in one hand and Dumbledore's hand in the other, they had stepped into the fireplace of their room. The headmaster had glanced at Draco with a certain look in his eyes which Draco had found hard to decipher — but it had given him some kind of reassurance that it would all be alright. 'Take this, my boy,' he had said, a paperclip being placed in Draco's palm; an object Draco had never used in his life but of which he knew Muggles used now and then. 'It's a portkey,' Dumbledore had explained as Draco had observed the tiny silver object a little more. 'When I give you a sign, and only then, you will take ahold of Harry and his friends.'_

_'How do you know his friends will be there as well, monsieur?' Draco had asked, interrupting the old man's explanation._

_'Harry always brings his friends — they are always by his side.' A little smile had appeared on Draco's face and Dumbledore had returned it as well. 'When you are sure everyone is close to you; count to three in your head and the portkey will take you back to Beauxbatons,' Dumbledore had continued._

_Draco had nodded to his words, hidden the portkey in the pocket of his trousers and taken ahold of the man's hand again. 'On-y va!'_

_Green flames had taken them away; the destination decided by Dumbledore and a secret to Draco until they had landed in a fireplace at the Ministry's atrium. Black, green and the reflection of glass windows surrounded him — the golden statue towering above his presence like an evil demon. He had only been there once; a short trip with his father where the man had kept on babbling about politics and the importance of having an influence on them. The whole place had rather bored him back then but with Voldemort now appearing in front of his eyes; Draco had had to admit it wasn't as boring anymore._

_And Harry had also been there; his soft voice calling his name in a stammering way. He had looked so scared yet so determined, his wand on the floor a few feet away from him. It had been then and there that Draco knew he had to save him; had to protect him from the monster he was so scared of himself._

_And he did. He not only saved Harry, but also his friends._

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

With Harry's friends all up on their feet again, Draco started walking with Harry immediately joining him by his side. 'Thank you,' the boy said to him, his eyes shining and his whole presence still a disheveled mess.

'For what?' Draco replied, a slight smirk on his face as he took Harry's hand in his. 'I must inform Madame Maxime about my return — and about recent events,' he then said. She did perhaps know that headmaster Dumbledore had been staying in her school for the last month; but she probably had no idea that he had taken one of her students into a battle against the Dark Lord — and that this student brought Harry Potter and his friends back to her school with him.

After a nod, he saw Harry glance over his shoulder, at his friends who were looking around in wonder. Luna and Ginny pointed at every little detail of the architecture and Hermione seemed fascinated by the many talking statues that were positioned throughout the hallways. Students dressed in blue passed them, all nodding their heads to Draco and throwing weird looks at Harry and his friends; as if someone had disposed trash on their school's precious marble floors. Footsteps of gold were appearing in front of everyone's feet except those of Draco; leading them in a direction unknown to them — but clear to the only local of the group.

An explanation here, a pointed finger there and a few questioning glances later they finally arrived in the east tower where Madame's office and chambers could be found. Almost everyone was short of breath as they reached the top of the 8th staircase; Draco forever wondering how Madame did such a thing more than once a day. _Perhaps there's a spell,_ he thought to himself as he took a deep breath to calm his quickly-beating heart. The sound of more footsteps then suddenly resounded through his ears; and through those of all the others. Seven heads turned towards the stairs to see the exhausted yet smiling faces of Ansel and André appear out of nowhere.

' _Que faites-vous ici?'_ Draco asked, throwing the twins a questioning look with his eyes before wrapping his arms around them.

His embrace got answered by two pairs of strong arms, bigger smiles and puffs of air. 'Well, Angelique said that Ella heard from Margot that Edouard was told that Yves saw you,' Ansel explained, only exhausting himself even more.

'And that you weren't alone,' André added to it. 'We thought you were still in the captive hands of _votre papa_?'

Draco shook his head and glanced over his shoulder, looking at Harry and his friends who seemed to be at lost of what to do nor how to react to the sudden appearance of Draco's friends. _Probably_ _thinking_ _they're_ _just_ _like_ _you_ , a little voice told him and Draco couldn't agree more. They were dressed in blue as well — as all boys and girls at the school — and were radiating a certain allure that was very distinct for a Beauxbatons' student. 'Someone helped me escape; and then I helped them escape as well,' Draco answered the twins.

The boys weren't listening to his words anymore, though; were now eyeing Harry Potter — _the Boy from the Tales_ — from head to toe and making their way to him by stepping around Draco as if he belonged to the particles of the air. 'So this is _him_?' André asked, circling Harry with large eyes. ' _Enchanté monsieur Potter!_ We have heard so much about you!' They both took ahold of one of his hands and brightened their smiles.

'And not only the story of your scar,' Ansel added to his brother's words with a wink.

Harry looked as if he wanted to disappear through the floor, slowly melt away and never face the twins again, and Draco realized he had to say something to save his poor lion from becoming a prey. 'You should meet his friends as well, _garçons_ ,' Draco said. 'I'm sure they're willing to tell you a lot about their school in return for stories about ours.'

The twins their attention seemed to be drawn by Draco's words and their hungry eyes for gossip shot from Harry to his friends, their clawing hands taking ahold of Luna and Ron — Hermione, Ginny and Neville jumping away just a second fast enough. Luna didn't seem to mind but Ron rather seemed to feel uncomfortable; pulling a face and glancing at Hermione for help. Seeing it as his one and only chance; Draco pulled Harry away from the others and dragged him a bit further down the hallway — in the direction of Madame's door.

Letting out a sigh and suspiciously glancing at the twins talking to the others, Draco quickly knocked and hoped he could escape into Madame's office before the twins wanted to join them as well — it would become quite the fiasco with having the duo by his side while trying to explain something serious. 'Are you coming with me?' Draco then asked. He might not need the extravagant support of his best friends; Harry's support was always welcome.

Harry shrugged as a response. 'You're not really giving me a choice when you're holding me like that.' With frowned eyebrows, Draco looked down to see his hand clamped around Harry's wrist; showing a nervosity he didn't knew he had. He quickly let go with a slight rose color appearing on his cheeks.

' _Pardon_ ,' he whispered before Madame's door unlocked in front of their eyes; access to the boys granted. Her door was locked in a truly magical way; locks from floor to ceiling shaped in those of tiny stars graced her door and turned in various directions before they clicked into place and lit up as a starry night sky— and as they all glowed a pure white light, the door swung aside to let the one who knocked inside.

With hesitant steps, Draco entered Madame's office with Harry on his heels. Many times already he had been there; learning new spells or just to talk and clear his head. Walls painted a lilac shade greeted them as they turned a corner, the golden decoration from the chateau drawn through and making the ceiling look a little more intricate. Little lights like those of stars floated around everywhere; making tiny magical sounds which reminded Draco of Headmaster Dumbledore's office he swiftly got to visit the year before. A desk of pure marble was placed in the center of the room, joined by a comfortable looking chair cushioned in purple velvet — Madame Maxime was seated atop that exact chair, a quill in one of her hands and a long scroll of parchment placed in front of her. Behind her back one could see the beauty of the French pyrenees and a glimpse of Beauxbatons' gigantic Quidditch pitch next to its maze.

'Somehow I already expected to see you _aujourd’ui_ _,_ ' Madame said, not even looking up from her writing. Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Madame interrupted him by lifting her finger. 'And I don't mean you, Draco.' She finally lifted her head, a soft smile lingering upon her lips as she looked in Harry's direction. ' _Monsieur Potter,_ how delightful it is to see you again.'

Draco could see Harry swallow from the corner of his eyes, bend his head in an awkward way. 'Nice to see you again as well, Madame Maxime,' was his clumsy reply.

She blinked slowly with her eyes at his words. 'Dumbledore?' She asked, now turning herself to Draco, who confirmed her thoughts with a nod. ' _Je le pensais déjà.'_

'Headmaster Dumbledore and I went to _le Ministère_ to help Harry and his friends defeat _le Seigneur des Ténèbres_ ,' Draco explained to her — getting straight to the point as he knew Madame liked; long explanations were for lies, she once said — short ones for the truth.

Madame Maxime laid down her quill after those words and folded her hands. _'Il est de retour?'_ she asked, which Draco confirmed for her with yet another nod. 'I must admit I didn't believe _monsieur_ Dumbledore's speculations at first — especially not after your babbling,' she glanced at Harry, reminding him of how hysteric he had been after the final task a year ago with simply a look of her eyes. 'But I do believe your word, Draco — I always have.'

Draco gave her a weak smile and bended his head for her. ' _Merci, Madame_. I'm sorry I didn't inform you before we left.'

The French woman sighed. 'It is not your fault, _mon amour_. Still, I don't really appreciate that _monsieur_ Dumbledore took one of my favorite students into a battle of life and death without my permission.'

Draco could feel his cheeks turn pink at the word 'favorite'; something he had known but had never really heard from her very mouth before. 'I'm sure he meant no harm,' Draco replied.

Madame gave him a weak smile and focused her green eyes on Harry again. 'Are you going to hide in _mon chateau, monsieur_ Potter?'

Harry glanced at Draco before nodding his head. 'If that's — if that's alright with you, Madame. My friends are also here,' he replied, shuffling his feet a little and straightening his robes even though it was a hopeless cause.

' _Il y a plus d'étudiants de Hogwarts ici?_ ' Madame asked, a bit surprised and turning herself to Draco again.

' _Oui, Madame_. They helped Harry battle against _him,'_ Draco explained. 'Would you like to meet them?'

Madame raised her hand quicker than anyone could blink. ' _Non, non — c'est bon_.' She then turned herself to Harry one last time. ' _Monsieur_ Potter and his friends can stay for as long as they please — I'll ask _les elfes_ to prepare a room for them.' Both Draco as Harry gratefully bowed their heads, and as they made their way towards the door again — they could hear Madame ask them one last question. 'You're not only hiding from him, _oui_? Does the thing you're hiding from perhaps dress in _rose_?'

Draco glanced over his shoulder, looked straight into Madame's eyes that radiated an invisible smirk — and Draco returned it with a look as well before leaving the room with Harry by his side.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

The others were still talking to the twins in the hallway; now having some other students joining them in their conversation. Wherever they had suddenly come from, Draco had no idea. They were exchanging stories about their school; trying to convince the other that their school was better and why that was exactly. Only Ron seemed to be distracted by a subject other than information about Beauxbatons; he had rather become interested in the girls again and was showing off the new scars he had gained from the battle — ones in a circular shape as if an octopus had tried to eat him alive. It didn't seem to work though, as the girls slowly backed away from him and hid themselves a bit behind the twins — glanced nervously and helpless in Draco's direction.

'I hope Dumbledore has returned by now,' Draco said with a sigh, glancing at his mother's timepiece.

'Returned?' Harry asked with a questioning glance.

Draco nodded and took ahold of his hand. 'I'll show you.'

Descending the many stairs again and walking through hallways with legs still wobbly from them — Draco finally told the secret he had been keeping for over a month to Harry and his friends. The twins were lingering behind them as well; still trying to convince Hermione that Beauxbatons' moving staircases were pretties and better than those at Hogwarts — even though they had never seen the ones at Hogwarts before. Hermione shut their mouths as Draco opened his to explain how he helped Dumbledore hide from Umbridge and the Ministry overall. 'Well,' Draco started. 'I happened to be the one to see Headmaster Dumbledore appear outside Beauxbatons' golden gates. He had just apparated there; landed with a soft sound but one that my ears had caught nonetheless — that had drawn my attention. On his arm was his beautiful phoenix; blinking its yellow eyes and getting a few pets from its owner before flying away into the sky and disappearing out of sight. Shocked, I was, of seeing Dumbledore in France, but I approached him anyway,' Draco continued. Everyone was looking at him with huge eyes; waiting for him to go on. 'You see; only Beauxbatons' teachers and elected students can open the golden gates—'

'And he happens to be one of those elected students,' Ansel then said, interrupting Draco's story and getting a glare from the same blond in return. ' _Pardon_ — just stating the facts.'

' _Oui_ ; I am one of the few students who can open the gates for important visitors or whatever — it doesn't really matter why — but it granted me the ability to let Dumbledore in; to invite him onto the grounds of my beloved school. He smiled at me and told me exactly what had happened with that same smile still on his face; as if it all had been a big joke he was the starter of. But he turned serious when explaining to me he had to hide — hide away from the Ministry. I then told him I could help him with that, but that he at least had to tell Madame about it. It wasn't a problem and before I knew I was helping the headmaster of Hogwarts hide away in this school; bringing him food three times a day and making sure he was alright.'

'Where did you hide him?' Ginny asked, glancing around the hallway as if the secret hiding place would suddenly doom up in front of her eyes.

Draco smiled. 'It was because of you that I found it, _monsieur_ Longbottom,' he answered, coming to a halt by a painting Harry recognized all too well; it was the painting of the flower-boy Raphael that had graced Draco's door last year. Neville nervously pointed at himself and Draco nodded. 'Harry told me you found this secret room for the D.A. to practice in, and that reminded me of a room Raphael had told me about last year, didn't you?' 

Draco's eyes glanced at the portrait whom nodded at his words. ' _Oui, oui, mon amour!_ Your room last year was only a temporary hanging place for me, here I practice my true use as a door.' The portrait of the boy swung aside, revealing a circular room with a spiral staircase going downwards made of pure marble.

'How many staircases can there be in this bloody castle?' Ron huffed, rolling his eyes and following Draco and the others into the room.

Down, down they went. Specks of gold, touches of marble and hints of blue slowly fading away into darkness. A rich smell, that of Christmas, filled their heads with joy as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Ginger, brown, blond and raven haired heads took a look around, their eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. The cozy room Draco had discovered only a few weeks before Dumbledore's unexpected arrival doomed up in front of them. 'This is where you have been hiding Hogwarts their headmaster?' Ansel asked, mouth wide open and looking around the room as if it was filled with glittering unicorns.

' _Oui_ , and after Dumbledore helped me escape from _papa_ I also hid in here,' Draco explained.

'Wait—' André started. 'Since when have you been back? You came back earlier than today?' Draco nodded to his words, totally forgetting to tell the twins that he had returned to their school already a week ago. 'Why didn't you tell us?'

'I couldn't,' Draco admitted. He quickly glanced at Harry and his friends whom had drifted off from the three best friends; were inspecting every little corner of the room as if to find their headmaster returned underneath a sock. ' _Je devais les aider,'_ he then said, looking into the twins their eyes. He could see their understanding; their love — that he hadn't meant to keep his return a secret for the two boys he cared about the most… beside from Harry of course. He then turned himself towards the others with a sigh. ' _Bien_ … Let's see what rooms Madame has provided you with so we can all fresh ourselves up a little bit. Maybe get some rest — I believe your headmaster won't be returning any time soon.'

Everyone agreed to Draco's words and followed him up the stairs again — Ron once again complaining about the unwanted physical activity he was being put through. As they stepped through the portrait hole, Harry's friends followed the golden footsteps in front of them that would lead them to their rooms — Draco and Harry staying behind for a bit longer. 'You're unbelievable, Draco,' the raven-haired boy suddenly told him.

'Don't steal my word, Harry,' was Draco's comment on it as he tried to hide his once again blushing cheeks. 'And I am most certainly not. _Non;_ I just did what was right.'

'And that's why you're unbelievable. There is no other student that I know of that would hide someone away from the wizarding world without being caught — or would go into battle and save so many lives,' Harry said to him, taking ahold of Draco's cold hands and heating them up with his warm palms. 'It makes you an unbelievable person, Draco.'

With a face alike to that of a tomato, Draco couldn't help but look at their feet — golden footsteps circling around Harry's as if waiting to bring him to a room of his own. 'Dumbledore basically saved all of you,' was Draco's reply.

'But you brought us to safety.'

Draco shrugged to that. ' _Oui_ , I kind of did.' The blond then sighed and looked at the glorious midday sun that was setting above the chateau's roof. 'I hope Dumbledore found a way to defeat him — or at least something alike,' he then said.

Harry let out of a sigh of his own, drawing Draco's eyes to him and looking straight into those beautiful emeralds he had missed so much. 'I hope so too,' he replied before pulling Draco a bit closer to him and wrapping his short but warm arms around the tall French.

' _Ah, l'amour,_ ' a voice then said in a dreamy way. Two pairs of eyes looked in the direction of the voice; spotted Raphael dreaming away in his portrait. 'How much I love seeing you two together again.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

'Do I really have to sleep in a room of my own? Can't I just stay with you?' Harry asked. They were following the way Harry's golden footsteps were taking him; obviously to the dormitories but it was only a question to which one and what exact room.

Draco rolled his eyes and tightened his grip around Harry's hand. 'Always so demanding,' he replied. 'But alright.' He then quickened his pace a little and pulled Harry with him; a smile appearing on the boy's face as they basically ran through the hallways of white and blue, passed by a few dormitories to stop at the one Draco identified as his. 'This is my _dortoir_ ; the twins sleep in this one as well and we share a common room just like the houses at Hogwarts,' Draco explained.

'I thought Beauxbatons didn't have something as houses?' Harry asked, clearly confused and showing that same confusion on his frowned face.

' _Non_ , it's just different years together. The only rule is that boys and girls are separated,' Draco explained. ' _Apotelesma_ ,' he then whispered to the pastel blue door — its structure swinging aside to reveal a common room more crowded than Draco could have ever expected. 

'What — what does that mean?' Harry asked, his question meant for the word Draco had whispered but his eyes staring at the partying crowd in front of them, distracted.

'The influence that stars have over human destiny,' Draco mumbled as a reply before storming in Ansel and André their direction. ' _Qu'est-ce que c'est?'_

The twins were jumping on the common room's light blue sofa — _with shoes on!_ — and held drinks in their hands that were spilling all over the place. Hadn't they left them alone for what — two minutes? 'We're hosting a party for our British guests,' Ansel explained, gesturing towards Harry's friends whom were animately talking to other students again. Only Hermione was sulking in a corner; probably finding the party as unjust as Draco did. 'And of course celebrating the defeat of _Le Seigneur des Ténèbres! Bénissez directeur Dumbledore!'_

Draco dragged his friends off the sofa by pulling their sleeves. 'What makes you think he's defeated? Maybe Dumbledore has lost or _he_ has escaped!' Heat was rising to his face and by a quick glance on Harry's, he noticed he wasn't the only one experiencing anger.

'Then at least let us celebrate that the Boy from the Tales has come to our school?' André said, almost in a questioning way as if suddenly not sure of what they were doing was right or wrong.

Draco sighed deeply and took another look around; spotted the smiling faces of most of Harry's friends — besides from sulking Hermione of course — and decided that perhaps it wasn't that bad of an idea to cheer them up a bit after the battle. ' _Bien_ ,' he concluded. 'You can celebrate that; but not for too long, alright? You all have classes tomorrow.'

' _Oui, monsieur Malfoy_ ,' the twins answered in a mocking way before disappearing in the partying crowd.

Draco turned himself to Harry and took ahold of his hand again. 'Do you want to stay?' He asked but judging by the anger in the boy's green eyes — Harry wasn't feeling like staying at all. The boy indeed shook his head and Draco took him away from the loud music and loud voices — away from a chaos that wasn't even supposed to be there. On their way they picked up Hermione and Draco showed her a room of which he knew for certain was free; where she could stay and rest like they had planned on doing.

' _Merci_ , Draco,' she said to him with a smile before disappearing.

'Now I finally want to see your room,' Harry then said, already pulling the French further down the hallway even though he had no clue of where to find his room.

Draco couldn't help but laugh because of it and guided him in the direction of the last door; colored in pure white and decorated with a pale blue number that was his own. 'Here it is,' he said with a little smile and the door unlocked at the touch of his hand. The midday sun was shining its beautiful bright light through the large windows; lighting up the entire space and showing off the elaborate use of gold and blue. Draco could see that Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to the view upon the Quidditch pitch that was one of the best features from this dormitory — but also that he seemed to be surprised by how large the room was. 

'I seriously thought your room would be the same size as that room you had last year,' Harry admitted as he moved from Draco's bed to his wardrobe — opened it up to take a look at the heap of blue clothes that were almost identical to the sky outside. Only a burgundy red jumper was sticking out; the one that was actually Harry's. He then moved to Draco's desk and spotted an unfinished letter that Draco had been writing to Harry before his father had taken him away; it made him realize that he now had two unfinished letters he had been writing to Harry — to his _James_. '…wish you would be here to look at the beauty of the Pyrenees and the golden rays of sunlight that shine in twice a day…' Harry read out loud, his eyes staring at the letter and a smile lingering upon his lips.

'Just — just some thoughts,' Draco said as an excuse for his over-poetic self. Or for trying to be at least a little poetic.

Harry glanced from the letter to his lover and widened his smile. 'I'm here now; show me those beautiful Pyrenees and let's wait for those golden rays of sunlight to shine in,' he said before already walking to the window and searching for what Draco was describing in his letter. 'They are indeed very beautiful,' the boy concluded as Draco knew the Pyrenees could be seen from his window as well.

'I want to say something cheesy but I won't say it because it's cheesy,' Draco then said, already grinning at himself for even having the thought.

Harry turned around again, facing Draco with crossed arms and emeralds as bright as the sunlight. 'What? That I'm more beautiful?' The boy guessed and Draco had to admit it with a nod. 'Then I would disagree; the only thing that is more beautiful than that view is the blond, French boy that is standing in front of me.'

With rose cheeks Draco turned around a few times as if to find another blond, French boy in his room — then pointed at himself. ' _Moi? Non_ ,' he said with a grin before getting drawn into a kiss — finally feeling Harry's soft lips against his again. _Oui_ … He had missed it _again_. And he forever would. _Even if we can be together every single day,_ he told himself, _I will always miss kissing him whenever I can't._ 'Come lay down with me,' he then whispered to Harry, already pushing him a little in the direction of the bed. 'For you must feel how soft my bedding is.'

Harry couldn't help but laugh, but as he let himself fall down on Draco's actual bed — his smile disappeared and a loud moan escaped from his mouth as if he had just fallen onto a cloud. 'Heaven!' he declared and stretched out his limbs. His green eyes searched for Draco whom had seated himself on the edge of the bed; was watching the raven-haired boy slowly sink away into the many pillows and blankets and make an imaginary snow-angel in the sheets of pure white. His greedy hand then took ahold of Draco's arm and pulled him down, closer to him before he wrapped his entire body around the blond. 'Now heaven's complete,' he whispered and kissed Draco on his cheek.

Draco now was the one to laugh and turned his head to look into Harry's eyes; to capture their smile. With one of his long fingers he wiped away some dirt that was still stuck to the boy's face; a reminder of a battle they had fought only a few hours ago. But even though the thoughts of evil and danger started circulating through his head again; he couldn't help but feel happy and glad to have Harry by his side again — to be able to lay down on his cloud-like bed and have the only person he truly loved next to him. ' _Tu me manques_ ,' he then whispered to Harry, his hand still resting on the boy's cheek.

A weak smile appeared on Harry's face again as he wiped a tear away of which Draco didn't even knew he had shed. 'But I'm here now; so you won't have to miss me anymore,' the boy answered. How much Draco loved that the boy had studied some French — could understand at least some of the things he found hard to translate to English; for there was no exact translation to that missing — that feeling of lacking someone and _needing_ someone. But he now understood and by the watery look in the boy's eyes; the feeling must be returned.

'I have something that belongs to you,' Harry then whispered, his voice soft but Draco could hear him swallow a few upcoming tears away. 'Wouldn't know what to do with two anyway.' He then fetched Draco's golden medallion from his robes’ pocket and placed it in Draco's palm — the cold metal so familiar. 

He wanted to ask where he had found it — wether he had stolen it from his father or obtained it in another way; but it didn't matter. All that did was that he was given back something that meant a lot to him; something he had felt heartbroken about for losing. ' _Merci_ ,' he whispered back to Harry before kissing him again and hanging the medallion around his own neck; feeling the metal rest against his heart where it was supposed to be.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Dumbledore showed up the next day as if there hadn't been a battle at all; a delighted look on his face and a pile of waffles in front of him. They had found him at the professor's table during breakfast; the whole dining chamber glancing at the headmaster with curiosity. Draco and Harry had immediately stormed in the old man's direction once they had noticed what the others had been so curious about — had been looking at — and Dumbledore had greeted them with a mouth full of waffles and a beard full of crumbs. 'Harry, Draco,' he had said to them as a greeting. 'Hope you two weren't too worried about me?'

Draco gave Harry a side-glance before answering the headmaster with a shake of his head. 'Of course not, _monsieur_ Dumbledore. We were just wondering how things went after we left,' Draco explained, seeing Harry nod to his words beside him.

'Well,' Dumbledore started. 'Unfortunately Voldemort escaped. The Minister and his Aurors finally showed up during our final duel and seemed to scare him away — even though I don't believe ' _scare_ ' is the right description for it.'

'So the Minister has seen him?' Harry then asked. Draco immediately thought about how hard the Minister had tried to hide the Dark Lord's return away as if Dumbledore had gone mad — how all of his plans now had become effortless and a waste of precious time. 

Dumbledore nodded to Harry's words. 'He has; and that's a good thing, isn't it?'

Both the boys nodded. 'What will you do to Umbridge now, sir? You won't let her stay, will you?' Harry asked with worried eyes. Even Draco could share that worry and saw Madame Maxime glance in their direction at the mention of the pink devil's name.

And as if on cue; the large doors of the dining chamber swung aside and revealed that same pink devil they had been talking about. You know what they say; if one talks about the devil… The stumpy, chubby and rose figure of Umbridge strode its way towards the professors table and judging by the look on her face; it wasn't to come and eat waffles as well. 'Dumbledore!' she called out, her screeching voice making some of Beauxbatons' students flinch. 'I demand to know why there are six students from Hogwarts in a French school!' She stumped her chubby foot which she had squeezed into the tiniest pink shoe ever and gave Dumbledore a look of pure hate.

'Because they were battling against Voldemort, Dolores,' Dumbledore simply explained before he took another bite of his waffles — not caring about the tiny, angry lady in front of him.

But the mention of the Dark Lord's name seemed to anger her even more. 'You and your silly talking,' she started. 'You must stop immediately with spreading rumors of his return! Now that I know you're here as well I will tell the Minister and he-'

'And he will do what exactly, Dolores? I believe Fudge is currently too occupied with something of a greater matter,' Dumbledore replied to her words.

Umbridge frowned her eyebrows and straightened the bow on her head a little. 'And that matter may be?'

'The return of Voldemort, of course. Why don't you go ask him yourself, Dolores? I'm sure he'll gladly tell you all the details.' 

Fury seemed to reach its peak as Umbridge her face turned the color of a tomato — perhaps even brighter. 'Fine,' she concluded before turning around and making her way through the dining chamber again.

'One more thing, Dolores,' Dumbledore then said. The small woman turned herself around again, her bow swinging from left to right by the quick turn. 'You're fired.'

Both Draco as Harry smiled brightly as they watched Umbridge storm away, ready to explode. Harry's friends cheered from one of the tables and the students from Beauxbatons' gladly joined them as they were all too happy as well to have escaped from the pink devil's claws. Madame Maxime also sighed out of relief and placed a hand upon Dumbledore shoulder as if to say 'thank you', and Dumbledore smiled at her with a proud look upon his face.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They stayed at Beauxbatons for another week; Draco showing Harry every little corner of the chateau and spending endless hours in his room with him. It almost felt like the year before where they had all the time in the world and had spent hours in each other's arms as well — just whispering stories and feeling each other's presence. But now two dark shadows were looming over their heads; that of the Dark Lord and that of Draco's father. Of course the man had come looking for him only a few days after the battle; demanding Madame to see his son. And oh how the poor woman had had to lie — use all of her pokerfaces to keep one of her favorite students safe from the pale claws of his father. Draco had hid himself away in the secret room together with Harry — cried for hours as he waited for the moment to arrive where his father would burst through the door — drag him back to the cold Manor by what was left of his silver hair.

But fortunately that moment never came. Draco was safe… _for now_. He knew there was no escape from his father; that he would have to go home sooner or later — but if he could choose between those two, he would always choose for later — even though if that meant that it would be harder and more painful. If he could spend more time in freedom, in Harry's embrace; he would always choose for later. If he could escape the evil of the Dark Lord, radiated onto his father's presence; then he would always choose for later.

But when was later? Maybe later was sooner anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically about what happened before the Minisitry battle and a little bit of hanging around at the Beauxbatons castle -- nothing special, but definitely necessary to wrap up 'year 5'. I might speed up year 6 a little but I'm not quite sure about it yet (inspiration hasn't come to me; my head is already making up ideas for year 7).
> 
> I hope you haven't gotten tired of my beautiful Beauxbatons!Draco yet & thank you once again for all the loving comments! :) And we did it! We're officially over 100K words.


	5. La tâche

****

**_C H A P T E R 1 5_ **

_Harry_  
****

'H-Harry?' A whispering voice, a cold hand upon his face. Harry pushed the hand away; he himself too busy with fighting against the enemy in his head. _Nightmares_. Every night.

'Harry,' the same voice whispered again — louder this time, but still Harry ignored it and lifted his right hand to point his wand at Voldemort's laughing face.

'Harry, please.' The whispering voice was now almost as loud as Voldemort's in Harry's nightmare, and as red sparks left the tip of his trusted wand — Harry finally opened his eyes to face jet black darkness.

'Harry,' the voice once again repeated at the sign of movement from Harry's side. Finally did Harry recognize to whom that voice belonged; to Draco, of course. Turning himself on his other side he looked into the beautiful but shiny eyes of his lover; tears sparkling on his cheeks as a pale hand slowly wiped them away, trembling.

'What's wrong?' Harry immediately asked, taking Draco's hand in his and moving a bit closer to him. 'Why are you crying?'

Draco closed his eyes, looked away for only a second. As the room became brighter as Harry's eyes adjusted more to the darkness; he could see more and more tears roll down Draco's pearl skin. ' _J'ai peur_ ,' the boy admitted with a trembling voice.

Placing his hand now on Draco's cheek, Harry slowly wiped the tears away with the warmth of his thumb. 'Why, my angel? Because of _him_?'

Draco nodded. ' _Un peu_ … but also because I have to go home.'

Silver colored eyes stared into Harry's and he could _see_ the fear that laid beyond them — the fear of going home again and face monsters one wasn't supposed to face at home. 'Can't you stay here? Can't Madame Maxime protect you?'

A soft sigh followed — one out of pure exhaustion — as Draco shook his head. 'I can't, Harry. I must return for I can't endanger everyone here. What will _papa_ and that monster do once they hear I am unwilling to come home?'

Harry was now the one to sigh. 'And at Hogwarts? Come to Hogwarts with me and we can try to hide you there—‘

' _Non_ ,' Draco interrupted. 'I won't endanger you nor your friends like that. I know Hogwarts is a strictly guarded place — perhaps even more than Beauxbatons — but that doesn't mean they won't find a way to break through its protective spells.'

A silence followed as Harry was lost for words and of what to do. Was there really only one option for Draco? For him to go home? 'I wish I could do something,' Harry then said. 'But I realize as well that there will be no hiding; not for either of us.'

Draco bit his lip and slowly nodded his head, fighting some more tears before burying his head against Harry's chest. 'I'll miss you,' the blond boy whispered with a voice filled with soft cries.

'I'll miss you too.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

'You will only start to miss him more, Harry.' With Dumbledore next to him, they walked through a nearly abandoned street in the middle of the night. The pale moonlight shone upon them and a few stars were flickering next to it; showing off how much they could sparkle. To why exactly Dumbledore had invited him to join him on a nightly trip to wherever-they-were; Harry had no idea — and by the looks of it, the Headmaster wasn't really feeling like explaining it to him. 'But you shouldn't worry about him,' Dumbledore added to it.

'Why not? He was forced to go home again and live happily with his parents that worship a monster; of course I should be worried about him,' Harry replied to his headmaster's words. How could he not be worried about Draco? Who knew what that cruel father of his had in store for his son after his escape. After helping both Dumbledore as the Dark Lord's enemy — after being on the _wrong_ side. An image of Draco locked up in his room with tears running down his face came up in front of his eyes; him being unable to defend himself against his own blood.

Dumbledore didn't seem to be changing his mind by Harry's words and kept a straight face as he guided Harry around a street's corner. A street-lantern flickered orange light onto the pavement and a slight mist, of which Harry's didn't know was Dumbledore's doing or just nature, hovered around them. 'Draco is a clever boy, Harry — and very talented as well. He will probably outsmart you any day of the week and defeat you in any duel as well. So for that; you shouldn't worry. Nor should you worry about mister Malfoy, his father. He won't be able to hurt his son — trust me,' Dumbledore told him before he stopped at a house that looked as abandoned as the others.

'Why not?' Harry asked again. Of course Draco's father would be able to hurt him, even when Draco was probably smarter and better at dueling; there would always be a way.

A meaningless side-glance from Dumbledore's eyes was all Harry received as an answer before the old man knocked on the house's wooden door and entered it only a few seconds later. Were they breaking into Muggle houses now? Was Hogwarts running low on funding? But as Harry took a good look around, a bright Lumos enlightening the hallway, he could see something terrible had happened. Furniture and decorations were smashed onto the ground; broken into a million pieces and smeared with blood. Someone or something had been inside; destroyed the house of an innocent Muggle. Was this the work of a Death Eater? Voldemort himself? And why was Dumbledore taking Harry to it in the middle of the night?

Staying behind Dumbledore Harry followed him further through the house; into the living room where a chaos of the same caliber appeared in front of their eyes. The only thing that seemed untouched was a striped blue sofa in the middle of the room — old but spotless and in Dumbledore's eyes apparently very interesting as the man kept his eyes locked on it. 'Slughorn', he then said. 'I know it's you.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

'I haven't heard from him ever since we parted in France.' The sun was setting outside and disappearing behind green hills; the views of beautiful Scottish landscapes passing by through the window of the Hogwarts Express. It was the first of September and a new year at Hogwarts was about to begin. Hermione sat beside Harry and Ron opposite of him; eating a chocolate frog and trying to keep a second one in his hand without having it jumping away.

Hermione sighed at Harry's words. 'It's only normal, isn't it? Now that his father and mother have found out to whom he has been writing all along.'

Of course Harry knew that; he knew Draco's father had found out who James was and that his mother probably knew as well, but still there had always been this little spark of hope burning inside of Harry's chest that had hoped that a letter with his father's name upon it would land on his doorstep again. Or at least — be carried inside by Hedwig in the most secret way. 'Dumbledore told me not to worry about him, though. I still haven't figured out why I shouldn't.'

'Well, if professor Dumbledore says so I believe you must trust him,' Hermione replied to his words.

With a sigh Harry turned himself to Ron in order to get a reaction from him; but all the red-head seemed to be interested in were his chocolate frogs and how fast he could eat them. 'I just wish I would stop worrying about him — but I can't.'

'That's because you care about him, Harry. And that's a good thing, remember? Just — just try to distract yourself a bit,' Hermione suggested. 'Let's talk about something else, shall we? For example the fact that you'll become Quidditch captain this year?'

Sighing once again, Harry tried to focus his mind on Quidditch instead of Draco — but the worries stayed. There was simply no way he could cast his love for the boy away; stop caring about him. If he could he would even give up his position as the Gryffindor's Quidditch captain any day if it would keep Draco safe from his father, mother and Voldemort. Against his will, and with Draco still floating around in his head, he started chatting about Quidditch with Ron now finally joining the conversation as well.

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_Draco_

Another portkey. Had he ever taken that many portkeys in one year before? _I believe not._ With a soft thud he landed just outside of the Manor's gates; their iron dooming up above him and making it feel like a cage. Draco's hands were sweating — his palms warm instead of their usual coldness as he waited for his parents to notice his presence and for them to open the gates. It seemed to take them longer than usual and Draco's nervosity only increased as he stood there and waited to be greeted in any way possible. Would he be hugged as all the years before? Or would a hand greet him with a slap in the face? Perhaps a curse would hit him before he would see either of his parents appear — putting him out of his misery for good or turning him into a statue of stone to decorate their entryway.

As the gates finally opened, he slowly walked towards the front door — its dark wood decorated with roses and peacocks — before having it opened by one of the house-elves. 'Master Draco has returned home,' the house-elf announced with a smile upon his face.

For a second it made Draco smile as well — only a faint glimpse — before his mother appeared in the entrance hall with a grim look on her face. He knew that look all to well; a look that showed that something was _terribly_ wrong. 'Draco,' she stammered. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears as she made her way to her son and embraced him with a hug — a hug of which Draco experienced as awkward for the first time ever. As stiff as the statue he thought he would've been turned into, Draco stood there and let his mother shed a few tears on his shoulder. As the woman finally lifted her head and wiped away the black lines of make-up off her cheeks, she sighed deeply. 'Your father has been taken away, Draco,' she told him in French. Whenever they were alone they always communicated in French — in the language they felt safe in talking. 'They have locked him away in Azkaban as if he's one of those evil Wizards that belong there!'

It took a while for those words to sink in and for Draco to form a reaction upon them. Should he be happy? Should he be _glad_ his father was locked away in an awful prison far, far away from them? Or should he feel as sad as his mother for losing a part of his family? Should he worry about the man? 'Oh?' Was all Draco managed to say. He didn't know how to speak anymore, nor how to form proper words.

'Now that the Minister knows of _his_ return; they quickly found out who helped him with that exactly and are taking all of those people in,' his mother explained. She wiped a strand of two-toned hair out of her face and balled her pale hands into fists. 'But he hasn't helped him return, has he? I mean—'

' _Non,_ stop lying to yourself, _maman_ ,' Draco interrupted her. Taking ahold of his mother's hands, he searched for her dull grey eyes and stared directly into them. ' _Papa_ has helped him return just like the Ministry men are saying; he is helping a monster voluntarily. It is only right for them to lock him away before _he_ can make use of all of his followers — of his Death Eaters.'

A slap of a hand then followed; one Draco had expected to receive as a greeting but was now given as a punishment. 'How dare you talk about your father that way, Draco! And call him that name! He is obeying him for he must protect us!' A burning fire was now visible in her dull eyes; a fire Draco had never quite seen before.

'You don't see it, do you?' Draco then asked, biting his teeth as his cheek slowly turned red. 

'See what, exactly?' His mother asked, hysterically throwing her hands in the air before realizing her posture and raising her chin a little.

'That we're on the wrong side.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Depressing grey furniture and painted walls alike greeted Draco as he entered his room which he had left not even a month ago. He missed going back to his home in France; to the smaller cottage with walls painted in white and colorful flowers surrounding it. The scent of the nearby sea and a beautiful sun shining brightly at noon. Even the rainy days in France were always lovely; the sea a little more reckless and the sounds of its waves reaching all the way to his bedroom window. Simply depressing, were the rainy days in England. Thick drops clattering against his window and a strong wind mimicking the voice of a ghost.

A half-written letter to James greeted him from the floor; crumbled and torn apart by his father or mother. He had no idea whom was worse now; the father he had always known had some kind of evil in him or his mother who didn't seem to understand how wrong the man was she was so in love with. And Draco was the center of those two people; loved them both but had no idea on how to deal with their visions — with their support of a monster.

Lowering himself onto his desk's chair, he stared outside the window and looked upon red roses and white lilies his mother had planted in the Manor's gardens. Draco's hands were tingling with the desire to wither them; to make them turn as rotten as his parents their soul. But weren't they just trying to give their son the best life? To keep him safe? Draco didn't know anymore and therefore contained himself, picked up a new stroll of parchment instead and started writing to Harry — letters of which he didn't even know he would be able to sent.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Days seemed to pass like they lasted weeks at the Manor and Draco stayed in his room all day long; avoiding his mother and more conversations about what was right and what was wrong — or just about his father. Of course it was terribly boring and drove Draco mad, but the thought of going downstairs and having to face his mother again was enough to keep him in that boring room. His cheek still burned from that one slap she had given him; something Draco had never expected her to do. She hadn't acted like the mother he knew; the mother that would've cried because her husband was gone -- but would've seen the good in it. 

And it wasn't as if Draco needed anything else from what he had in his room; his wand, books, food and water that one of the house-elves frequently brought up. Until the first of September was nearing -- only one single day away. 

Sneaking downstairs on the tips of his toes, Draco tried to listen carefully to catch a hint of sound that would let him know where his mother was. A ruffling of paper then caught his ears; his mother probably reading the Daily Prophet over some breakfast. Entering the breakfast room with still zero sound, Draco looked at his reading mother; elegantly dressed as usual but with slightly shaking hands. Clearing his throat, he got her attention and made her jump slightly. 'Draco?' Was her reaction as she folded the newspaper and placed it next to her cup of morning tea. 'I wasn't expecting to see you.' Her eyes were a bit red and slightly swollen; as if she had been crying for two whole months -- the two months Draco had been hiding in his bedroom.

'Tomorrow is September first, maman,' Draco stated, looking away from his mother's tormented eyes. 'I must go into town and gather supplies for the new school year. Has my letter arrived yet?'

'It has,' was his mother's answer. 'But you won't be returning to school any time soon.'

Draco lifted his eyes again in under a second, stared at his mother as if she had just announced the end of the world. ' _What_? You aren't letting me return to school?' Taking a few steps closer, Draco balled his hands into fists but felt like it was a hopeless move at the same time. Never would his _normal_ mother have denied him from going to school; from being with his friends and learning new things.

A little silence followed before his mother opened her mouth again, struggling to find the right words. 'There is something I must tell you, Draco. Perhaps you should sit down,' she said as she gestured towards the chair beside her.

'I'm fine standing,' Draco replied with his arms now crossed. Looking away from her again but feeling an invisible magnet slowly pulling his eyes back, Draco tried to concentrate on the small fountain he could see out the breakfast room's window. 

A sigh of his mother followed. 'Fine. I received a message… about you.'

Draco couldn't stop his eyes from quickly glancing to her again, eyebrows frown. 'About me? From who?'

'From _him_ ,' she then said. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up her cup of tea and took a sip. 'He wants to see you; talk to you.' Feeling his legs turn into jelly, Draco had to sit down on the chair next to his mother anyway and stared at the small fountain again. 'It's an opportunity for us to make everything right again; to fix your father's mistakes and yours as well. It's the only way, dear.'

Giving his mother another quick side-glance with his eyes, Draco felt heat and anger boil to his head. How could his mother be so wrong? Shouldn't they be running and hiding instead of making things better again — bonding with the monster they were trying to avoid? 'It's not right, we shouldn't obey him like that,' Draco replied. 'I won't talk to him; I'd rather die!'

Jumping up from his chair and catapulting it to the floor, Draco was ready to storm out of the room and plan an escape — plan his own suicide if that was what it would take to end his family's misery. But of course that wasn't a very good plan — and he knew that. 'Think about Harry,' his mother then said to him, making Draco come to a halt. 'Don't you think he would be heartbroken to hear you're dead?'

Biting his teeth, Draco slowly faced his mother again. He could see tears in her eyes; tears for the fear of losing her son and not knowing anymore what was the right thing to do. 'Leave Harry out of it, _maman_. You haven't even met him,' he replied, holding back a few tears of himself now as well. 

'I indeed haven't,' his mother admitted. 'I wish I could; I wish we lived in a time of peace where there was no right and no wrong. Where we were a normal, happy family that weren't pressured to obey a man after making one single mistake. Shouldn't we deserve a second chance, Draco? Shouldn't we deserve a way to make up for that mistake?'

His mother's words twirled around in Draco's head and confused him. Those words made it sound like the mother he knew again — but with an undertone of his father. 'We can make up for that mistake in a good way; in the _right_ way.' 

A shake of his mother's head followed. 'We can't, Draco. This is the only way. And you know it, don't you?' The pale face of his mother slowly started to shine by her flowing tears. Torn, Draco was as he saw his mother in so much pain and confusion of herself as she was seated there — hopeless and helpless at the same time.

' _Maman_ ,' Draco then said. He finally realized something; something he hadn't thought of before but by seeing her so distressed and crying so much he suddenly saw it. Her words; had they been hers truly or words manipulated by a second party? Draco cursed himself on the spot for not realizing it sooner. 'He's here, isn't he?'

It had been so clear; his mother's trembling hands as she had read her newspaper and sipped from her tea. A second chair that was drawn back a bit from the table and her grey eyes that had been glancing at the door behind her the whole time. She nodded her head as an answer and as if on cue, the same door she had been glancing at opened up a bit; a gleaming red eye staring in Draco's direction from the dark.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

What were they going to say? What was going to happen? _I can't do this. I can't. I should run away now I still can._ Staring out in front of him, mountains different than the ones he was so used to seeing doomed up in front of him. A castle, one he knew but not as well as another. A task, a reason to be here instead of where he was supposed to be. ' _Bonjour_ , Hogwarts. Never thought I'd see you again this early,' Draco said out loud as he stepped through the gates and entered the school's grounds.

 _He_ had given him a task; a task from a monster he had to obey in order to survive. His mother had been attached to him like a puppet attached to its owner by strings; only saying the things he wanted her to say. How could Draco have thought of her so wrong; how could he have thought she had been so alike to his father? He should've known there had been something wrong; his mother had always been against _him_ as much as Draco was. But now it was too late; and there was no-one Draco could ask for help anymore.

He couldn't tell Harry what he had to do as a spell was casted upon him that would kill him instantly must he spill any of the secret mission to anyone other than the Dark Lord himself. Even his mother would form a threat must he start talking to her about it. Afraid, Draco even was, to think about it in the presence of others — afraid it would kill him as well and leave him on the cold floor as a heap of misery.

But even though there was no escape; Draco knew that he would never truly obey his orders. He would try to please him for as long as he could; make it seem like he was obeying him but in the end figure out another way. Because there always was another way, right?

_I'm not so sure about that anymore._

It was the 2nd of September and early in the morning; before six and a deserted castle greeted Draco with rays of morning sunshine. But all Draco could see was darkness and misery; how much he hated the fact that he was there instead of at Beauxbatons, surrounded by his friends and writing letters to Harry. He would see Harry now daily — at least that was a good thing — but facing him and having to lie to him would be a greater pain than Draco had ever felt. Even the stab of that wooden stick many years ago wouldn't be able to compare to the pain of having to lie to his lover; lie about something that would hurt both himself as Harry greatly. Perhaps even the whole school.

How afraid he had been when _he_ had proposed this task for him — or more like demanded it from him — that he would get marked just like his father had. But there had been no such thing and as Draco wandered around the castle in search of a living soul; he looked at his blank left fore-arm and praised Merlin for sparing him from that black ink. It could have been proposed; he could have become like his father without having a choice. His feet eventually wandered off towards the headmaster's chambers; his stomach turning upside down at the thought of the old man and the monster's plans. Would he ever be able to even pretend like he would succeed in it?

Trying out the same password he had heard two years ago, Draco was surprised to have the stairs turn upwards for him and bring him to the headmaster's chambers. A single knock on brown wood was enough for it to open already; to open its door to a deserted office. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen but a blue, dazzling light shined brightly from the corner of Draco's eye. His feet dragged him towards it and he quickly recognized the shining liquid as the memories contained in a pensieve. _Should I_ , he asked himself as he peered into the bowl of blue. A memory was floating around in it and luring him in like a sweet song. And before Draco knew it; he already bended forward and let his face meet with the blue.

Blue faded into black and a room he didn't recognize took shape around him; a bed, a desk, many letters hung against a wall. A soft breathing caught his ear's attention and he noticed the presence of another Wizard in the room; asleep in bed with the blankets pulled all the way to his chin. Draco faintly recognized him but didn't know from where; and certainly not who it was. As he took as a step closer to observe the Wizard's face better, a ticking sound from behind him woke the boy. Blue eyes looked straight into his as if he was physically there, and for a second it startled Draco and made him stumble backwards. In the corner of his eye he then spotted another Wizard, a boy the same age as the one asleep, outside of the bedroom's window. With a wand at hand he ticked a few more times against the window before the other boy got out of bed to let the boy in.

Smiling brightly the stranger greeted the other boy. 'I'm sorry to wake you, Albus,' the boy said to him. 'But you must listen to what I have to say.'

Albus? Wasn't that Dumbledore's first name? _If that's Dumbledore_ , Draco thought to himself. _Then this is a memory of himself but younger, isn't it? But who's the other boy and why is he visiting him in the middle of the night?_

'Another plan you've made up to let Wizards rule over Muggles?' Young Dumbledore asked with a roll of his eyes. 'Are you sure we're that superior to them? I mean — they can be quite inventive as well.' He wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned before sitting down on the edge of his bed.

The other boy followed and seated himself next him; pulled out a stroll of parchment with scribbles and drawings to hold in front of Dumbledore's eyes. 'See; I've been studying them for a while now and I must admit they can indeed be inventive but listen—'

'Do you really have to wake up me up in the middle of the night for that? Tell me about it tomorrow for as I want to get at least some sleep.' Another yawn from young Dumbledore followed and a sigh from the other boy in return.

'Fine — if you're that tired, I'll leave you alone.' The boy stood up with a sulking expression on his face but young Dumbledore grabbed him by the wrist before he could walk away.

'I didn't tell you to leave,' he started. 'Just — get some sleep as well. Looks like you could use it.' The other boy indeed had dark circles from a lack of sleep around his eyes; his blond shoulder-length hair a greasy mess and clothes put on in a hurry. The strangest thing about him, though, was the fact that one of his eyes was as white as snow; something Draco had never seen before.

The other boy then pulled young Dumbledore up to his feet again and closer to him. With only an inch between the pair and their smiles brighter than the shining stars outside their window; Draco knew there had to be something between them — something more than friendship. _Something like he and Harry had_. 'Alright,' the boy then said. 'I'll stay.'

'I've never heard you agree with me that fast, Gellert. Perhaps I should use this technique more often when you're rambling on again,' young Dumbledore said to him.

 _Gellert_? There was only one Gellert Draco knew of — one of which he also knew Dumbledore knew and… and _defeated_. The memory faded away in smoke before Draco could hear any more of their conversation or see them for a second longer; his figure being pulled out of the pensieve's liquid by another person. A bit startled and confused of what he had seen, it took Draco a moment to realize where he was again; in Dumbledore's own office. And as he turned around, he looked at the aged and old version of the Dumbledore he had seen only a second ago. 'How alike you are to Harry sometimes, Draco. So curious,' the headmaster said to him before seating himself behind his desk.

Draco swallowed out of embarrassment and seated himself on the leather chair on the other side. 'I didn't mean to see something so personal, _monsieur_ Dumbledore. _Je suis très désolé_ ,' he told the old Wizard.

Dumbledore swiftly glanced at him but didn't seem that bothered at all by having shared such a personal memory without permission. 'Perhaps it is a good thing that you have seen that memory, Draco,' he started. 'Maybe now you will realize a thing or two — keep them in mind.'

Draco frowned his eyebrows at the headmaster's words. 'R-realize a few things?' He stammered, confused. 'That you — that you loved—‘

'Another man? Like you?' Dumbledore said as a completion of Draco's sentence. 'Well, yes. But that's not it. The most important thing you must remember from this is that you cannot always protect the ones you love, Draco. I couldn't protect him because he was different than me; more than I had thought he was.'

'You couldn't have known that,' Draco replied.

'Yes, I could,' Dumbledore admitted. 'I should've known once he started dreaming about Wizarding superiority.' A silence of a few seconds fell between the two as Draco thought about everything he knew about Grindelwald, but then Dumbledore started talking again. 'But I must admit Harry and you aren't like Gellert and I. You are more alike yet you are both on a different side.'

'I don't want to be on a different side, _monsieur_ ,' Draco admitted as he moved himself to the edge of his chair. 'But I have no choice.'

Dumbledore let out a sigh; one almost completely soundless but definitely there. 'I know, my boy. I know. And you'll hurt Harry with that fact, I know that as well. But listen,' the headmaster now rose from his seat and moved to Draco's side, seated himself on the other chair where Harry had once been seated as well. 'He'll eventually understand.'

'But what if he doesn't? I can't tell him anything… I can't tell you anything,' Draco replied. Thoughts were racing through his head; memories of Harry and him mixed with the few fights they had multiplied by three times. What if he wouldn't be able to find a way to avoid his task? What if he would _have_ to do it? Would Harry hate him for it? 'Yet you know, don't you?' Draco then asked, suddenly realizing that Dumbledore had been talking about something else than just being on the wrong side. Did the old headmaster perhaps already know what the Dark Lord was up to? What he had given Draco as his task?

'Do I?' Dumbledore asked back, the tiniest smile on his lips and a wink of his eye following. He then placed his hand upon Draco's shoulder. 'Just don't worry. It'll be alright.'

But Draco shook his head. Dumbledore might knew what was going to happen; but did he truly see and understand the consequences of it? Did he truly know what was being asked from Draco in order to save his family and Harry? 'It won't be alright, _monsieur_ Dumbledore. Not until he is defeated.'

Dumbledore sighed again, this time very much audible and patted Draco's shoulder. 'I agree with that fact, Draco. It will only be alright once he is defeated, but do know that you are not fighting this battle alone. Harry is a greater pion in this game than you may think… and so are a lot of others. You will have to believe that there is another way; that you're not alone. And when it comes to sides; I know that you will always be on ours, Draco; no matter what task Riddle gives you.'

Dumbledore's soothing words were just the ones Draco had wanted to hear; _needed_ to hear. He quickly wiped away a tear that wanted to roll down and gave Dumbledore the weakest smile of them all. ' _Merci, monsieur_ _Dumbledore_.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Emerald green robes made their way to the headmaster's chambers as well; entering the room accompanied by a velvet hat and square glasses. 'Why in the Wizarding World are you waking me so early in the morning, Albus,' professor McGonagall announced as she stormed inside with her hands in her sides. She then noticed Draco's presence and frowned her eyebrows. 'Mister Malfoy? _What_ are you doing here?'

'Mister Malfoy will be staying at our school this year,' Dumbledore explained.

McGonagall set up big eyes at hearing the news. 'But why? A student can't just change schools in his sixth year. That's _absurd_ and never heard of!' McGonagall didn't really seem to know what to do with that fact; with Draco's overall presence at the start of a new school year. 

'I am sure you have heard what has happened to Mister Malfoy senior, haven't you, Minerva?' Dumbledore then said and those words seemed to make a bell ring in McGonagall's head.

'Yes, of course. My apologies, mister Malfoy — but I can't deny I am not satisfied with having all of those Death Eaters locked away—'

'That's enough, Minerva.' McGongall shut her mouth to a tight line and looked from Draco to Dumbledore and back. 'The Ministry has demanded from the Malfoy family to stay in England for as long as mister Malfoy is staying in Azkaban. Therefore mister Malfoy here is obligated to stay in England as well and can't go to Beauxbatons like previous years. You won't deny a boy his education now would you, Minerva?'

Raising her chin as if Dumbledore had just offended her greatly, Minerva shook her head. 'Of course not. I admire mister Malfoy for wanting to continue his education even if that means going to a different school; we shall welcome him with open arms,' she said.

'Good. Well, I believe you have the most friends in Gryffindor, right?' Dumbledore then asked Draco, whom nodded his head. 'Then I now officially sort you into Gryffindor. I hope you won't mind wearing red instead of blue. If you want I can also put you in Ravenclaw—‘

' _Non, monsieur,_ ' Draco interrupted him. 'Gryffindor is fine.'

'Then I'll be your head of house from now on,' McGongall explained with pride. 'I believe most of them have Potions as their first subject today. At least, those who were qualified enough for the class this year.'

Draco rose from his seat and took the suitcase he had been carrying from the floor. ' _Merci_ ,' he thanked McGonagall whom gave him somewhat of a smile — more like a slight lift of the corner of her mouth — in return. 'I do know where the Potions classroom is, _madame.’_

'Alright, but I insist on guiding you there as the other students won't know what will overcome them. As I said before; we have never had a student from another school transfer to Hogwarts in his sixth year. The first a few times but _sixth_ … unheard of.'

Throwing a quick glance of eyes at Dumbledore before leaving, Draco couldn't help but feel like things were suddenly less dark and miserable as they had been when he had arrived at the school. Dumbledore's excuse of the Malfoy family having to stay in England would be the perfect cover-up story for the actual reason why he was at Hogwarts and not at his beloved Beauxbatons. Dark days were coming ahead but Draco was sure at least some sparks of light would be able to shine through.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Empty vials and those filled with colorful liquids. Waiting in the dimly lit potions classroom with the gigantic eyes of other students casted upon him, Draco hid himself a little behind McGonagall — everything to get away from the nasty glares. He could already tell by the faces of some of the students that he wasn't as welcome as he had been before; they probably had heard the stories about his father and were now wondering what the son of a Death Eater was doing in their potions class. As McGonagall finally opened her mouth to give the others an explanation to why Draco would be staying at Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons, the door of the classroom swung open and revealed a disheveled mess named Harry and Ron. Panting from running so fast, they leaned against the wall to catch their breaths. 'Are we brewing Amortensia, professor? On our first day already?' Harry suddenly asked, lifting his nose up a bit in the air.

'No, we aren't, mister Potter,' Slughorn replozd with frown eyebrows.

'Then why does it smell like a mix of lemons and lavender in here?' Looking around the classroom with a pair of frowned eyebrows of himself, his green eyes caught Draco's presence; standing next to his head of house and being the center of attention. 'Draco?' the boy stammered in the same way he had done at the Ministry. It took him a few seconds and at least three blinks of his eyes before believing that his French lover was actually there. He then made his way through the classroom, pushing people aside as if using the spell Bombardia and throwing his arms around Draco as if he hadn't seen him in years. 'What are you doing here?'

But Draco didn't know what to say; he wanted to tell Harry the truth of why he was there and what he had been given as a task — but he couldn't. He could feel the curse burning on his tongue; the slight taste of blood as the words were waiting to be spilled. 'If you wait just a second, mister Potter, I will explain everything. Will you please take a step back,' professor McGonagall commanded with a glare of her eyes.

Harry hesitantly and with confusion visible in his eyes took a step back to stand beside Ron again, Hermione joining them with equal confusion readable on her face. With everyone now gathered around the blond, McGonagall finally cleared her throat and explained Draco's reason of stay. 'That's absurd!' one of the students called out afterwards. 'You can't let a Death Eater stay at our school!'

A few other students seemed to agree with the boy by nodding their heads. 'Must I inform you that mister Malfoy is _not_ a Death Eater like his father; he is just an innocent boy like all of you that wants to continue his education. Isn't that only normal? You mustn't blame him for the mistakes his father made,' McGonagall replied in defense. It warmed Draco's heart at hearing how hard the woman was defending him; even though she knew nothing about the real reason he was there.

'Innocent? I don't believe it!' Another student now shouted. 'Besides, he hasn't even been sorted properly, has he? Just because he's Harry's boyfriend doesn't mean he _deserves_ to be in Gryffindor!'

Those words seemed to light a fire in Harry as the raven-haired boy came into action and made his way to the boy -- Hermione just quickly enough to grab Harry by his robes and keep him from strangling the boy to near-death. 

Draco himself still stood frozen to the spot; unsure of what to do and glanced up at professor McGonagall whom sighed deeply and shook her head. It was sweet of Harry, of course, to defend him — but was it right? Draco didn't know anymore and suddenly felt like crying out of pure confusion. 'That's enough, boys,' McGonagall then said. 'Mister Malfoy will stay here wether you like it or not and you will treat him the same way you would treat your fellow students. You were nice to him two years ago so you can be nice to him now as well.' With those words said, she shut everyone's mouth and patted Draco on the shoulder. 'If anything's wrong, mister Malfoy; you can always inform me about it.'

A nod from Draco's head and McGonagall left the classroom; leaving Draco in the center of a mixed crowd. Some were still glaring daggers at him and others seemed careless about his presence. 'Come,' Harry said, reaching out his hand for Draco to take. 'Let's get away from those idiots.'

Draco nodded his head again and followed Harry through the crowd, but as they passed one of the boys from before; they were stopped by him pulling Draco's sleeve. 'Don't think for even a second I will treat you like an equal. I bet you're just like your father and only here to mess around with things in his name,' the boy said.

'Leave him alone,' was, to Draco's surprise, Ron's reply to the boy. The red-head put on an evil look and gave the boy a stronger push than Draco knew he was capable of.

Professor Slughorn, apparently the new Potions master, then clapped his hands and announced the class would start in a few seconds. That seemed to shake most students out of their curiosity and made them grab all their stuff; prepare their cauldrons and open their potion books at the right page.

'So you're here? Why didn't you send me a letter or something? If I had known…,' Harry said to him. Together with Ron and Hermione they had gathered around one of the tables in class and were leaning a bit closer to each other with curious eyes pointed in Draco's direction. But Draco just shrugged. 'Something's bothering you, right?' Harry guessed, taking Draco's hand in his and looking directly into his grey eyes with his own greens.

Draco shrugged again. 'I'm just tired,' he said as an excuse. 'And sad that I can't return to Beauxbatons.'

Harry sighed and nodded at his words. 'Of course you are. But don't worry; you've got me and Ron and Hermione. And all of the others that know the true you! Don't listen to what those idiots have to say; they don't know anything about your situation.'

Both Hermione as Ron nodded their heads at Harry's words, but it didn't help Draco feel any better at all. ' _Oui, mais_ … aren't they right for doubting me? I mean; I would doubt myself as well if I were in their place,' Draco admitted. Of course they should doubt him; and they were absolutely right to do so. But how could he tell Harry such a thing without hurting his feelings? His trust?

Looking as if he didn't want to have any of it, Harry shook his head and opened his mouth again; ready to argue about what Draco was saying was absolutely wrong, probably — but professor Slughorn made his way to their table and demanded them to get their potion books out and prepare themselves for class as well. As Draco pulled out his potions book — the French version — he noticed that Ron and Harry had no book of themselves at all. 'Ah, boys,' Slughorn commented on the matter. 'There are two more books in that closet over there, which you can borrow until you've bought new ones.'

As the boys walked away to pick up their copies of the required book, Hermione leaned a bit closer to Draco and placed her hand on his arm. 'Are you alright?' she asked, worry written all over her face.

Draco slowly nodded his head, even though he wasn't feeling alright at all. He then glanced over his shoulder and saw the duo fighting over whom would get to use the new looking book and whom the old one. 'Why don't they have a book of their own?' Draco asked, changing the subject.

'Well, normally professor Snape gives potions but now that Slughorn has returned; he is allowing other students with a bit lower grades to his class as well. Harry and Ron weren't supposed to be in potions class,' Hermione explained.

'I see,' Draco replied and saw how Harry lost the fight and started sulking at the sight of his old potions book. And for the first time in weeks, Draco couldn't help but grin just the tiniest bit.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

An overload of crimson awaited Draco as he entered the Gryffindor common room, his hand in Harry's and his best friends lingering behind them. The picture of Harry flying on a broom he had seen two years ago greeted him again with a smile and Draco felt at least a little at home. Students who hadn't seen him in potions or in the hallway gave him a strange look; questioning what a blond boy in blue was doing in their common room. Not daring to look into their eyes; afraid to see the hate they felt for both him as his father, Draco looked at his feet as he immediately took the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

A sixth bed had been squeezed inside the small room and Draco blessed the universe it was next to Harry's; at least he could be close to his beloved one at all times when he needed comforting. Dropping his suitcase in front of the bed, Harry wrapped his arms around him again and pulled him closer than probably ever before. Gasping for breath by the tight squeeze, Draco patted him on the back in order for release. 'Sorry,' Harry mumbled. 'I've just been so worried about you.'

'There was no reason for you to do so,' Draco answered.

'Dumbledore told me that as well, you know,' Harry then said. 'Did he know for long you were coming to Hogwarts?'

Draco shook his head. 'Not until a few hours ago; he was as clueless as you were.'

'I'm sorry about your father.' With a weird expression on his face as if Harry didn't know wether he should truly feel sorry or not, he told Draco those words.

And Draco shook his head again. 'You shouldn't be.'

'I know, but— it's the reason why you're here and not in France and—‘

'It doesn't matter, Harry.' Letting out a sigh, Draco sat himself down on his bed and looked out of the tiny window beside it. A beautiful view was shown through the glass; overlooking the fields around the castle and Quidditch pitch. Green, blue and brown. Trees rustling their leafs in the wind. A cry of a wolf or perhaps a tormented person.

Harry sat himself down beside Draco as well and took his hand in his. Softly stroking the pale skin, he laid down his head on his shoulder. 'Of course it doesn't matter,' he whispered to Draco as if normal said words would hurt his lover. 'You being safe is all that does.'

That moment Draco couldn't help but let a tear escape his eye. Not able to answer Harry without breaking into a sob, Draco softly stroke the boy's wild hair and gave him a kiss on his forehead. Harry sighed of contentment and squeezed the blond's hand a bit. It was a wonderful feeling to have his lion so close to him again; a feeling of safety radiating from his presence — but at the same time it was terrible having to lie to him and keep secrets he would find terrible if found out. Wasn't it like Dumbledore had told him to remember? _One couldn't always look after its loved one; one could hurt the other as well._

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Pines. The scent of a dense forest in Autumn. Red. Rooms painted in crimson and scarlet. Emerald. The color of a boy's eyes. Draco's first _real_ day of school at Hogwarts had been terrible for him. Not only did he have to wear the awful black school robes with matching red and golden tie — he also had to face a lot of students that seemed to be disgusted by even a single glance at him. Rumors had spread fast and everyone seemed to know the son of a Death Eater was staying at their school for the rest of the year. But fortunately there had been some that had greeted Draco like an old friend and had welcomed him to their school; helped him get rid of pestering students and guided him to all his classes. Harry had followed him every second and had seemed to be sticking to him like a piece of spello-tape. Every few minutes he would say how glad he was to have Draco by his side; to have him safe and out of the hands of the Dark Lord.

It all didn't matter to Draco; he had a task and it was weighing down upon his shoulders like nothing else had ever done before. Every fight he ever had had with Harry or every argument with his father couldn't compare to what he was experiencing now. He had been trying so hard for years and years to gain access to the good side; to switch sides and finally be away from the monster. But now he was caught in the monster's claws and unsure of how to escape.

At the end of Draco's first week at Hogwarts, he was walking towards the Quidditch pitch with Harry by his side. It was Harry's first day as the captain of Gryffindor and he had asked Draco to come and watch him try to manage a team — something the boy had never done before and found all too exciting. Of course Draco had accepted the invitation; still feeling a bit down but also trying to make the best of it, he didn't have the nerve to refuse. But as they were about to leave the castle and exchange the tiled floors for grass, headmaster Dumbledore appeared out of nowhere to tap Draco on the shoulder. Raven and silver turned their heads at their headmaster; smiling in a strange way and dressed in pale blue from head to toe. Perhaps he was channeling his inner Beauxbatons. 'Draco, may I speak with you for a minute?' he asked.

With frown eyebrows Draco glanced at Harry who shrugged and let go of his hand. 'I'll be back soon; don't do anything stupid without me being able to witness it,' Draco told him; making the boy in red laugh.

'I wouldn't dare,' was Harry's answer before he turned around again and walked away.

'Let's go to my office, Draco. I believe it is better if I show you,' the headmaster then told him, gesturing with his hand for the blond to follow.

Walking through the hallways of Hogwarts which Draco could now call a bit of his own, he couldn't help but miss the marble floors and golden detailing of the one he previously called his. Brown, grey and flames from burning torches were greeting him here; making shadows dance on the walls and bringing a medieval feeling with it all. Shaking his head at his own missing, Draco quickened his pace to keep up with the old man — whom was way faster than anyone of Draco's own age — and followed him back into his office. There Dumbledore immediately closed to door behind them and guided Draco to a chair for him to sit. 'What is it that you wanted to tell me, _monsieur_? Or show me?' Draco then asked, no longer able to contain his own curiosity. The headmaster sighed and placed his right hand on his desk. It looked black and coal-like; as if terribly burned above a great, magical fire. 'What has happened to your hand, _monsieur_ Dumbledore?' Leaning closer, Draco could see the blisters on the man's hand.

'It is cursed,' the man answered in a relaxed manner — as if it wasn't frightful at all. 'And it is my own fault, must I be honest.' 

Concerned, Draco frowned his eyebrows even more. 'Doesn't it hurt?'

'A bit, I suppose. It will only spread further and further as it is fatal, you see.' 

Putting on eyes the size of lightbulbs, Draco moved to the edge of his seat. 'Fatal? _Mais monsieur Dumbledore; vous allez mourir!'_ Not understanding how Dumbledore could remain so calm at explaining the fact that he was about to die, Draco glanced from the man's hand to his calm eyes and back.

'I will indeed,' the headmaster replied. 'And therefore you shouldn't worry anymore, Draco.'

'Worry? How can I not worry about you, monsieur, when you are about to die? Who will take care of Hogwarts?'

'Certainly someone else will take care of this school; and probably do a better job at it as well,' Dumbledore answered. 'But I believe you don't really understand what I am trying to say, do you?' Admitting to his confusion, Draco shook his head. What else would the man be trying to tell him besides the fact that he was going to die? Was going to leave his precious school in the hands of another? Was going to leave Harry to defeat a monster that was too powerful for him? They would _need_ Dumbledore, wouldn't they? 'If you would just stop thinking about the negative things about my death, Draco; I believe you will discover what it is I'm trying to say.'

Trying to ban his worries out of his head; Draco tried to focus his mind on any positive aspects Dumbledore's death could have. But were there any? Would anyone be happy when he would die? The Dark Lord would be pleased, of course — _of course..._ Suddenly realizing what Dumbledore was trying to say, Draco rose from his seat. 'You haven't cursed yourself for me, have you, _monsieur_?' he then asked, even more worried than before.

The old headmaster smiled slightly and shook his head. 'Of course not. Please, sit down again, Draco.'

Doing just that, Draco sat down again and moved his chair a bit closer to Dumbledore's desk. ' _Comment? Pourquoi?_

Dumbledore's slight smile disappeared as he opened a drawer of his desk and placed a shattered ring on top of it. 'This,' he started. 'Is the cause of the curse. My temptation had challenged me and had won; making me put on this ring and curse myself.' Draco hesitantly picked up the ring and studied it from a bit closer. There wasn't anything special noticeable about it; besides from the fact that there had been a symbol on the front which was now destroyed by whatever had destroyed the ring. 'It is one of many, I believe,' Dumbledore then said. 'But that's something for Harry to find out.'

'Please,' Draco interrupted, placing the ring back on Dumbledore's desk. 'Tell me about it as well so I can help Harry.'

'Soon,' the headmaster replied. 'For now; just know you won't have to worry about your task anymore. No matter what; know that it wouldn't have been different.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

A weight; fallen off his shoulders but stuck in his stomach now. A part of his task might be taken away but he had Dumbledore's cursed self to worry about now. Another lie added to the bunch; another thing he wouldn't be able to tell Harry about. But Dumbledore had said he had his own task for Harry; would soon tell him about it and maybe tell Draco about it as well. Would that help with taking more weight and worries away? Would it be able to set things right again and destroy the Dark Lord for good? Defeat him?

Making his way to the Quidditch pitch and walking over the grassy grounds, Draco was lost in his thoughts and completely unsure of how to feel. Should he feel glad? Should he smile and carry on as if he wasn't going to murder Hogwarts their headmaster? Did it really make him feel any better that the man was going to die anyway? Murder was murder, wasn't it? Nearing the field and hearing a numerous amount of shouting coming from the sky; Draco noticed spots of red flying over his head and throwing a quaffle around. There was only one red spot left on the field; Harry shouting things up to that same sky and pointing in various directions. The new Gryffindor captain then noticed Draco and waved at him with a bright smile; one Draco found too bright not to return. 'And?' Harry asked. 'What did Dumbledore have to say?'

Draco lifted his shoulders slightly. 'Nothing special; just things about my transfer.'

Believing his words and too busy with managing a team, Harry nodded to his words and shouted some more words in Ginny's direction. He then finally gave all his attention to Draco and looked him straight in the eyes. 'Something's different,' he noticed. 'As if you're _you_ again.'

'Me?' Draco asked with frown eyebrows. 'I will and always have been me, _imbécile.'_ Straightening his red and golden tie, he lifted his chin a little -- something he noticed he hadn't done ever since leaving Beauxbatons. Perhaps he was indeed becoming _himself_ again.

'No swearing during my trainings,' was Harry reaction, followed by a grin.

A roll of Draco's eyes and a push against Harry's shoulder was enough to make him grin as well, look up at the sky and flying red spots above him. 'As long as I'm safe and here with you, right?' Draco then said, looking back at Harry whom was staring up at the sky now as well.

'Yes, of course,' the boy answered.

'And nothing else matters?' A knot formed itself in Draco's stomach as it felt like he was letting Harry make a promise he wouldn't be able to keep; but one he would remind him of making many times in the future. It was a certainty; something Draco needed to have in order to survive the year.

Looking up to the sky again and noticing the few stars that were already starting to shine through, Draco heard Harry answer him with, ' _nothing_.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me explain the direction I'm taking my fiction in! So what first started as a good old fourth year fic I'm now taking all the way to the last book; I believe that will be a lot of fun and interesting to read. I have decided to keep myself to the actual books a bit and therefore I'm giving Draco the task he has been given by Voldemort in the real books as well. I hope you guys like that idea and aren't too heart-broken that our elegant, beautiful Beauxbatons!Draco is being put under the pressure of this task. But not to worry; I'm totally making it my own, French Draco, version which you guys will love (hopefully!).  
> Remember you can always just stop reading if you're not interested in knowing what Beauxbatons!Draco will be like in the future developments of the Harry Potter series. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)


	6. L'oiseau.

 

**_C H A P T E R   1 6_ **

_Draco_

_My beloved Harry,_

 

_I need to tell you something, even though I'm not supposed to. After this letter is written I might be dead; I might be hurt — but it can't wait. I must tell you what is on my mind; must tell you to stop him and his plans, as he has given me the task of completing one of them. Soon I will have to—_

Draco's hand trembled more with every sentence he wrote; the pain in his hand increasing to a point where he dropped his quill and spilled his tiny jar of ink all over the parchment. Iron; the taste of blood as it drifted on his tongue, mixed with salvia. His eyes were feeling strange and itchy — a blurry view. Had those few words already been enough to end his life? A cough followed; a hand brought up to his mouth. Stars of blood on his palm; a sign of near death.

But Draco wasn't going to die, and he knew that for certain. The Dark Lord wouldn't let him die so quickly over a few sentences that hadn't even exposed the full plan. No, Draco would die when he would spill every single detail of it out on paper or with his tongue; the specks of blood probably mixing itself with the ink then or with every word that escaped his lips.

With a sigh Draco leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The smell of wood, old books and the flickering of candles behind the darkness of his eyelids. He was at the library; trying to write Harry a letter while studying for a class he had already revised six times before. It was October already; the leaves falling from the trees one by one and winter approaching sooner than later. Memories of Harry's first task flashed in front of his eyes as he thought about October two years ago; a dragon chasing him on his broom and a golden egg sparkling at him from afar.

Why couldn't he go back to that time?  _Let's go back._

'Still studying?' A voice suddenly asked. Draco quickly opened his eyes and looked up in Harry's greens that had started it all. 

A smile was visible on the boy's face and Harry leaned a little closer to give Draco a kiss before the blond hurriedly hid his letter away underneath his Potions book. ' _O-oui_ ,' he mumbled as Harry sat himself down next to him; unaware of the secret letter Draco had just hidden away. 'Are you here to study as well?'

Harry shook his head, then placed his old copy of his Potions book next to Draco's. 'I'm here for this,' he admitted.

'For an old potions book? _Pourquoi_?'

A shrug followed as Harry started flipping through it. 'It belonged to someone very intelligent, I believe. It has a lot of notes in the sidelines and self-made spells as well. Some don't even have an explanation written by them at all,' he explained as he pointed out an endless amount of scribbles that were made beside the actual text of the Potions book.

With his curiosity triggered, Draco moved a little closer to Harry to be able to read the small script that Harry now pointed out. 'Property of the Half-Blood Prince?' Draco read out loud.

'Have you perhaps heard of him?' Draco shook his head and flipped through the book himself now as well. 'I thought you might as you know so much more than I do; or that he was perhaps someone French.'

'If he was French,' Draco started. 'He would've written all these scribbles in French as well — not in English. _Mais merci pour le compliment_.'

A smile on Harry's lips followed as the boy realized the stupidity of his question. 'Anyway; maybe we can find something about him in one of the books here?'

'Is that why you came to the library?' Draco asked, glancing at Harry with a little grin on his face.

The boy nodded his head before standing up again and drifting off to the rows of bookshelves. Draco staying behind with the old Potions book in his hands. At least there now was something which would take his attention away from his task; perhaps he would even be able to forget about it for a while.

_Perhaps._

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They hadn't found anything about the Half-Blood Prince, not even after two weeks of research, and Harry had insisted on keeping it between the two of them; as a kind of secret he didn't want to share. 'I'm currently as good as you at Potions and I'd like to keep it that way,' he had admitted as the reason to why he didn't want to share the intelligence of the Half-Blood Prince with his friends or teachers.

 _'Ce n'est pas juste, Harry.'_ But Harry himself had just rolled his eyes and opened the old book again. It concerned Draco a little with how much time Harry seemed to spend with reading the scribbles in the book. Draco himself had read a few pages but had found nothing special besides some notes that corrected the way of creating a potion — things he had known himself already. Was there something he hadn't seen? Was there something that was interesting to Harry but not to him?

Then something strange had happened to Draco; a complete stranger had approached him and grabbed him by the wrist while on his way back to the Gryffindor common room. He had gone off to the library alone after dinner, with the promise of trying to search for more clues of whom the Half-Blood Prince could be. He had left rather soon after once again a failed attempt at finding anything at all. First Draco had thought it was a student who wasn't happy to have him at Hogwarts; whom had been suspecting him of being a Death Eater like his father. But it had quickly turned out to be quite the opposite.

The boy had dragged him into a deserted classroom and had blocked the door with his body — pointing his wand in Draco's direction. Of course Draco had drawn his own wand as well; and together like full-on enemies they had thrown vile glares at each other for a few seconds. 'Who are you?' Draco had then asked.

To Draco's surprise, the boy had lowered his wand and tucked it away in his robe's pocket. Suspicious of what the boy was up to, Draco had kept his wand where it was and watched how the blond Slytherin had pulled up the left sleeve of his robes to expose the Dark Mark — right there on his pale forearm. It had nearly made Draco drop his wand; but his trembling hand had been able to keep it steady anyway. 'You're one of them,' Draco had said as he had glanced from the dark ink to the boy's face and back. 

The boy had put on a weird smile before lowering his sleeve again. 'You can put away your own wand now as well; we're not enemies.'

Wanting to deny those words but unable to do so, Draco had no choice but to obey the boy and tuck his wand away in the inner pocket of his robes. 'What do you want?' he had asked. For whatever reason the boy had taken him to a private space to talk; Draco didn't know. But by the look on his face it seemed as if he wanted to discuss something.

'I know of your task,' the boy had answered. 'As I have one as well, you see.' Draco had frown his eyebrows. Didn't only the Dark Lord and his mother know of his task? How was it that a boy the same age as him knew about it as well? 'And I know you can't talk about it to anyone. Just know my task has to do with yours; and therefore we should help each other.'

'How can we help each other when I can't even discuss it?' Draco had asked. There had been no taste of blood to be found in his mouth, but somehow he had already been able to feel it coming.

'I just need you to do a few things for me,' the boy had answered. 'For example; I need a living thing and you're going to provide me with one.'

'A living thing?' What kind of plan had this boy been given? 'As in an animal or a creature? A _human_ , I hope not…'

A shake of the boy's head had followed. 'Of course not a human; an animal will do just fine. Bring it to seventh floor in the left corner tomorrow night; I'll pick it up once you've brought it.'

'May I know what you will be using it for?'

The boy had shaken his head once again. 'You will see eventually.'

With that said, he had left the classroom with Draco wondering what he was up to; what the Dark Lord had given him for a task. Would it be harder? More tormenting than murdering the headmaster?

But Draco had obeyed the boy's words; had searched for a living thing that ended up being a small little bird. One of its wings had been badly damaged when Draco had found it by the Black Lake. It had seemed painful to the bird and Draco somehow knew the small creature would die very soon anyway. 'Do me this favor, please,' he had told the bird before placing it in a small cage and carrying it to the seventh floor that evening.

It had been harder to escape without Harry noticing than it had been to sneak up to the seventh floor; Harry always wanting to go everywhere with him and to notice it quite fast whenever he was gone. Not to mention the sly Gryffindor could always be following him underneath his invisibility cloak. _But what if that's the case,_ Draco had wondered. _What if he will find out I'm placing tiny bird cages on the seventh floor late at night? What would Harry think of that?_ Probably nothing — but knowing the curiosity from the boy and the fact that he couldn't let any little, mysterious thing pass by; it would probably lead to him confessing and eventually dying.

It had all gone greatly, though. The bird had been delivered without Harry following Draco and as Draco had wondered in bed what was going to happen to the bird; the blond Slytherin had slowly taken it away into a secret, hidden room.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

There was only one week left until Halloween; a few professors already rambling on about everything that had to be done for the celebration. Hagrid had started his selection of pumpkins that were to be carved and students seemed to be hyped for what kind of desserts there would be at the feast. Having breakfast at the Great Hall that morning with Harry by his side, as usual, Draco almost didn't notice an owl had landed in front of him as well; delivering mail he hadn't had since his arrival at Hogwarts. 'Draco,' Harry said while nudging him against his shoulder. 'I believe there's something here for you.' Looking up, he immediately recognized the beautiful creature as his own owl, a barn owl with a heart-shaped face he brought with him to Beauxbatons every year. Had he even brought her home over the summer, he suddenly wondered. Perhaps he had left her at Beauxbatons and did Madame Maxime simply sent her to him. 

A wax seal on the owl's small package told him otherwise — it was a gift from his mother. With a sigh, Draco gave his barn owl a piece of his toast and saw how the creature flapped her wings and flew away with some of the other owls. 'Do you know from who it is?' Harry asked, eyes glancing at the small package with curiosity.

Draco nodded his head as he slid the brown rope that was wrapped around it with a butterknife. ' _Maman_ ,' he answered before taking off the wrapping paper and opening the box inside. A letter greeted him, written in his mother's delicate handwriting and ended with a stamp which held the Malfoy crest. Not really wanting to read what his mother had to say — afraid it would be influenced by the Dark Lord again — Draco crumbled the letter in his hand and tossed it somewhere aside.

It ended up on Harry's plate and the boy threw another questioning look at Draco before unfolding the letter again and reading it in his head. Meanwhile Draco took a look at what was inside; three berets in the Gryffindor house colors — one black, one red and the other golden. How did his mother even know he had been sorted into Gryffindor? 'What does she say?' Draco asked her as he saw Harry read his mother's letter from the corner of his eye.  
  
'That she misses you — hopes you're doing well and that things are still the same at home. Something about being proud of you for being sorted into the house of bravery and courage,' Harry replied, reading a bit of the letter's content.

Draco clenched his jaw as he thought about his mother writing that letter to him with the Dark Lord behind her; reading every sentence she was writing down. Not to mention he had probably also been the one to tell her that Harry was in Gryffindor; and therefore Draco would most likely be as well. 'Should I keep them?' Draco asked, sighing as he felt the wool of the berets in his hands. He had missed wearing hats; non of his pastel blue ones matched with the burgundy colored robes he had to wear.

'Of course! They're a gift from your mother,' Harry answered. 'Why wouldn't you?' Draco shrugged as he put on the black one, positioned it a bit right and tucked the other two away in the box again. Almost automatically, he raised his chin a little and suddenly felt like putting his hands behind his back; guide a few girls through the hallway and make sure no Wizard would lay eyes upon them. 'Look at you,' Harry then called out. 'That's the Draco I know.'

As much as he wanted, Draco couldn't help but smile as his cheeks flushed slightly. Perhaps the berets weren't the Dark Lord's doing; but that of his mother instead. It was a simple detail like wearing a hat to Draco that made him feel like his old self again; like the strong Wizard that could decide for himself wether to obey or disobey a monster — even when put under pressure. 'Harry,' he then started. The boy turned his head towards him, his mouth full of scrambled eggs. 'Let's go to Hagrid today. Oh, and let's also go to the Lake; I want to walk around it again like we used to do in our fourth year.'

'I thought you didn't want to do that anymore?' Harry replied. Draco had indeed declined his offer many, _many_ times because he simply wasn't feeling like going outside at all; at doing anything.

Waving Harry's words away with an elegant gesture of his head, Draco rose from his seat. 'Let's go!  _Maintenant!_ '

Already walking away from the Gryffindor's table with the box of berets under his arm, Harry had to hurry himself to keep up with his lover's sudden vivacity while trying to swallow down that mouthful of food.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_Harry_

How strange Draco had been acting ever since his arrival at Hogwarts; he simple didn't seem to be the Draco he once knew anymore. The first two months he even looked like a mess as well; almost the exact mirroring of what Harry looked like on a daily basis. His hair uncombed, robes put on in a hurry and an eternal sulk on his face as if he truly _hated_ to be in Scotland. Not to mention he got shouted at by random students at least twice a day; telling him he was the son of a Death Eater and probably one himself.

But Harry had checked Draco's arm for the mark; and his perfect pearl skin had been unharmed. Yet, Harry couldn't help but think there was something else going on besides the fact that Draco missed being at Beauxbatons so much. The boy, for example, didn't receive any letters from home at all nor from his friends anymore. And at night, he often caught Draco sneaking out of the dormitory to then disappear out of the Gryffindor Tower all together.

Harry hadn't really worried himself about it at first; Draco probably wanted to be alone for a while and make a nightly walk through the castle. The blond's mood had even brightened after he had received those berets from his mother; his appearance suddenly fixed again and making him look like the vain little French he knew him to be. _Had things truly returned to normal again_ , Harry had wondered. But of course they hadn't; Draco kept on sneaking out of the dormitory at night or in the early evening — leaving Harry worried about where he was going.

The Marauders Map; how grateful Harry had been to still have that piece of parchment in his possession. He hadn't dared to glance at it before; afraid he would lose Draco's trust must he check on where his lover was heading off to at night. But as the blond had sneaked out of bed again a few days after Halloween; Harry hadn't been able to control himself anymore. As he had glanced at the piece of parchment, he had quickly found Draco walking up stairs and having his feet lead himself to the seventh floor. There the French seemed to pace through the hallway for a while; stop sometimes to glance at something — perhaps — and then to start pacing again. First, Harry had thought Draco just liked to roam that particular hallway at night; as a kind of favorite place to clear his head, but as another student had made his presence — he hadn't been so sure about his first speculation anymore.

 _Castor Idel_ , was the other student's name, and Harry immediately recognized him as the blond git from Slytherin that had hated him since day one. He was the son of a Pureblood family with high influence in the Wizarding World; his father held a high position at the Ministry and his Mother was known for writing Wizard-superiority articles for the Daily Prophet now and then. The boy always bullied younger students and loved to make fun of all the Weasleys; telling them how poor they were or how pathetic they looked with all their freckles and bright orange hair. Therefore Harry hated him as well; detested the little fellow to the core as he was truthfully evil. The tiny little feet that depicted Castor's walking way had stopped right in front of Draco's name; the two of them hovering close to each other and staying still before suddenly disappearing completely off the map. Had they entered a room which wasn't mentioned on the map at all, Harry wondered. And why was Draco meeting one of the most vile students of the entire school in the middle of the night?

Not drawing any conclusions immediately, Harry had gone back to bed. But as Draco kept disappearing during nighttimes — Harry also kept on checking on him. Almost every night he met the Slytherin boy on the seventh floor; only to disappear with him a few seconds after. Something was off, Harry concluded. _Something was wrong._

It went on like that for a month; Christmas creeping closer and only a few more days away. The holidays had arrived but lots of students decided to stay at Hogwarts; saw it as a safer place than going home. Perhaps they were right, Harry had thought to himself, or maybe not. He had grown suspicious of every move Draco did; keeping his eyes focused on every gesture the boy made. When he ate his toast in the morning, Harry glanced at his eyes to make sure he wasn't looking over at the Slytherin table. In class, he also made sure they weren't sitting too close to the blond git either. But nothing about Draco's behavior during the day made it appear that he was secretly meeting with Castor at night — when they crossed each other in the hallway they didn't even exchange looks or act strangely at all.

Deciding to have had enough of it; Harry was ready to hear Draco's explanation. He had tried to defend his innocence, but the nightly adventures to the seventh floor had continued on and on. 'Draco,' he started. They had just finished their Charms class and were walking back to the Gryffindor Tower — Draco yawning of exhaustion and his eyes baggy and full of sleep. Of course, Harry thought to himself, one can't sleep a lot when out all night. The boy glanced at him, raising his eyebrows a little. 'I think we need to talk.'

Stopping in his pace, right on one of the moving staircases, Harry made Draco slowly come to a halt as well. 'Why do you sound so serious?' was his reply.

Harry sighed, opened his mouth to say something but got shut off by the staircase suddenly moving again. Taking ahold of the balustrade and watching Draco do the same, they moved to another hallway where an old Wizard was awaiting them. 'Aha,' Dumbledore called out. 'Just the duo I was looking for. Follow me, please.'

Not really having a choice, Harry threw Draco a side-glance with his eyes before following the headmaster's trail. They walked to his office; were seated down in the comfortable chairs Harry had sat in a lot of times before. The little, magical sounds of the headmaster's office snuck into his ears again. 'Is something wrong, professor?' Harry asked. He knew Dumbledore had requested him to become friendly with professor Slughorn, but Dumbledore hadn't really explained to him exactly why yet. Was that perhaps the reason why he wanted to talk to him? But why did Draco have to join him for that?

'Well,' he started. 'I thought I might show you something.' Rising from his seat again, the man walked over to the pensieve which was now surrounded by what seemed hundreds of small vials. 'You see — I have collected as many memories as I could of _him_ ; but one's a bit distorted.'

Harry rose from his seat as well, Draco remaining where he sat while staring aimlessly in front of him. _What's wrong with him_ , Harry wondered before focussing his attention on Dumbledore again. 'Distorted?'

Dumbledore nodded his head. 'It is the one I received from professor Slughorn, actually. There lays some crucial information in his memory, yet he has done something to it which changes that information completely.'

With eyebrows frown, Harry took a step closer. 'Is that why you want me to become friendly with him, sir?'

Another nod followed as Dumbledore poured the distorted memory of Slughorn into the pensieve. 'Take a look for yourself, my boy. Perhaps you will then understand what I mean.' Before Harry did just that, he glanced at Draco behind him — still aimlessly staring at something on Dumbledore's desk. 'Don't worry too much about him, Harry; he has worries of his own as well which are much greater than you may think.' Looking in the headmaster's bright blue eyes, Harry couldn't quite decipher what the old man was trying to say by that.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

So that was the reason of his whole getting-closer-to-Slughorn affair; he had to obtain the same memory he had seen but the real one — not the one the professor himself had changed to clear his own name. They had left Dumbledore's office a few minutes ago, and even though Harry had been extremely hungry — Draco had asked if they could go for a walk as he was in need of some fresh air. As they sauntered through the fresh snow that had fallen only the day before; Harry made a plan in his mind on how he could obtain that memory exactly. 'Maybe we can make him very drunk and get it out of him that way; he's hosting that Christmas party of his very soon so perhaps that's the night we should do it,' Harry suggested as he looked at Draco.

Draco's face was partly invisible behind the thick Gryffindor scarf he wore, his eyes still staring at nothing in particular with a haze in front of them. A bit worried, Harry asked if something was wrong. ' _Non_ , I'm fine,' the blond answered, but his eyes told Harry otherwise.

'What was it that Dumbledore wanted to discuss with you?' Harry then asked. He had seen Dumbledore say a few last words to Draco when Slughorn's memory had ended; he himself drawing his head back out of the blue liquid of the pensieve. Dumbledore had seated himself on the edge of his desk; his body hunched close to Draco as they had discussed something in whispers. At the sight of Harry, however, Draco had immediately shut his mouth and casted his eyes away. Were they perhaps keeping something a secret from him? Had it something to do with Draco's nightly trips to the seventh floor? And why wasn't Harry allowed to know anything?

Draco shrugged as a reply. 'Nothing special; really. Information about _maman et papa_.'

'Then why are you acting so strange — and why couldn't I hear about it as well?' Harry asked, not letting go of the subject at all.

'It's not important, Harry,' Draco answered. 'You have other things to worry about now.'

'Well, yes — and one of them has to do with you!' Not able to contain a bit of the anger in his chest any longer, Harry had to confront his lover with the facts.

Confused, Draco stopped and stared into Harry's eyes as if he had just announced he was about to die of a terrible disease. 'What do you mean?' the blond asked.

'You know exactly what I mean — the sneaking out of the dormitory at night without telling me,' he explained, fury slowly boiling up to the surface and making its appearance in his voice. 'Give me a reason for that, will you?'

 

 

_Draco_

 

Draco tried to avoid his eyes, looked away, but as Harry grabbed him by both wrists, it was hard not to look at the boy. ' _Des cauchemars_ ,' he answered as an excuse.

'Nightmares? Seriously, Draco — is that all you're able to come up with? Tell me the truth!' A shake of Draco's head followed as he tried to free himself from Harry's grip. Should he shout? Should he act like he was in severe danger? Perhaps someone would hear him even though they were so far away from any other student. Could his voice carry itself over the grounds all the way to the castle? 'I'm your boyfriend, Draco; you're supposed to trust me.'

' _Je sais_ , Harry. I know… but I simply cannot tell you the truth,' Draco admitted. Harry's grip finally loosened around his wrists and Draco took it as his chance to run off; away from the boy before he would drag any more words out of him.

Dumbledore had seen the worry in Draco's eyes; had seen that he was struggling with keeping his nightly outings a secret to Harry any longer. Of course he had noticed the boy had grown suspicious of him; staring at him at weird times during the day and somehow trying to keep him away from Castor at all costs. Dumbledore had let him tell his story; about an object of dark magic the Slytherin was trying to fix — and with which he needed Draco's help as he wasn't the most clever Wizard of them all. Did Draco know what the object did precisely, Dumbledore had asked; to which Draco had said non. He didn't know anything more than that it was a complicated object that looked a bit like triangular closet. They hadn't been able to discuss a lot of it, though, as Harry had returned from the pensieve, from the memory of professor Slughorn, faster than Draco had thought he would.

And now he was running again; for what he seemed to do every time he was in an argument with Harry. Where had the time gone where he didn't run at all? Where was the time where he envied the girls getting chased — running away from their potential lovers in an innocent way?

But this wasn't an innocent way of running at all; this running was to stay alive — to keep his secrets and make sure he wouldn't hurt himself nor Harry. Yet the boy's legs were faster than Draco's and caught up with him in under a minute; tackling him down into the freshly fallen snow. Cold white overcame Draco as he hit the ground and got turned on his back by Harry; the boy's green eyes staring in his in an almost psychopathic way. 'Tell me the truth, Draco,' he repeated.

'I can't!' Draco replied as he tried to get up again; only to get pushed down by Harry's strong hands. Snow slowly crept its way to his neck and he could feel the coldness of it burn his pale skin.

He saw harry's eyes search in his; trying to find something — an answer or anything at all — but they couldn't as they appeared a more duller grey than they had ever been before. Draco tried to make himself a bit angry now as well in order to avoid any tears to show up in his eyes; it would only make the situation worse. But that anger only seemed to confuse the boy even more. _Dedicated_ , he was, as he didn't seem to let the subject go. 'Alright — then tell me why you're spending time with that Slytherin without telling me about it.' _How do you know about Castor?_ Harry swallowed and looked away for a second before returning his eyes, giving Draco a bit of a tormented look. 'Are you perhaps in love with him?'

 _Incroyable_. Draco shook his head wildly at the mention of love for another boy than the one that was currently holding him down in the snow. ' _Non,_ I'm not!' he replied. ' _Je t'aime,_ Harry! I only love you!' Harry then pulled him up again, small particles of snow falling down Draco's back at the movement. A new grip was created as Harry grabbed him by his shoulders to make sure Draco wouldn't stand up and run off again.

'Then _please_ , at least tell me why you're meeting with him almost every night — always on the seventh floor — always in _secret_?' Harry had lowered his voice a little, the anger slowly disappearing from it, Draco could hear.

But Draco couldn't answer him; he simply wasn't allowed to say anything. 'I can't tell you,' he repeated for what felt the hundredth time. ' _Je suis désolé_.'

It seemed to upset Harry again, as he clenched his jaw and looked away from Draco's eyes — his grip around Draco's shoulders tightening as well. 'Does it have to do with _him_?' he then asked.

'Him?'

'Voldemort.' Looking away at the mention of the monster's name and feeling a shiver go down his spine — Draco could feel Harry's eyes trying to read his emotions. And yes, of course the brave Gryffindor noticed that that name had triggered something inside of him. As Harry shook Draco's shoulder a little in order to make him look into his emerald eyes again, he asked him another question. 'It has, right? You know about the task Dumbledore has given me — the task to obtain the memory from Slughorn in order to destroy him... has Dumbledore perhaps given you a task of you own as well?'

Harry's eyes were shining brightly all of the sudden; as if he had finally discovered why his lover had been acting so strange. Yet, it was for nothing as Draco shook his head. ' _Non_ , not from Dumbledore.'

Already at denying Harry's words; Draco could feel a strange taste enter his mouth. Ignoring it, he tried to keep a straight face as he watched Harry's mind fasten its thinking-engine at Draco's reply. 'Then who did?'

A shake from Draco's head followed as he tried to get up; get away from Harry again for his own good. But, as had been proven many times before, the boy was way stronger than Draco was — keeping him down in the cold snow. 'I _cannot_ tell you, Harry!' Draco now basically shouted in his face. Harry's anger returned at Draco's shouting and sputtering; at him trying to get away and denying every little word he said. _It is for your own good,_ Draco thought to himself. _And for mine._

Then a kind of haze went by in front of Harry's eyes; very faintly but Draco noticed it anyway. It was as if the boy suddenly realized something — as if the pieces of a very difficult puzzle suddenly fell into place. 'It is he himself, isn't it?' he said, looking at the white snow underneath them. 'He has given you a task.' Draco swallowed as he himself looked at the white snow as well; his eyes slowly blinding by its clarity. A strong taste of iron now filled his mouth, even though he himself hadn't mentioned a thing about the task. 'You have to tell me more about it,' Harry then said. 'And that Slytherin is involved as well, isn't he?'

With his eyes now staring right at Draco, their psychotic state returned, Draco tried to concentrate his mind on something else than Harry's questions. Singing a lullaby in his head and thinking of Beauxbatons' beauty at the same time — Draco desperately tried to ignore the fool taste of blood on his tongue and the rambling of words Harry was hoping for Draco to answer. As his heart suddenly skipped a beat — not of being with his beloved one, but of being cursed — Draco couldn't take it anymore. _'Arrêt!'_ he shouted at Harry, his eyes closed and ears covered with his hands. 'Stop!'

Another skip of his heart, but Harry had stopped rambling words. 'Draco,' he heard the boy say — almost whisper. But Draco shook his head, afraid Harry would start with his questions again the moment he would open his eyes and uncover his ears. 'Draco,' Harry repeated, and this time the boy's strong hands lowered Draco's. Hesitantly the French opened his eyes as well and looked straight into Harry's emeralds; surrounded by specks of bright red. His whole face was covered with it as if he had become a Weasley; covered in freckles. But it weren't freckles at all — it were spats of blood that had escaped from Draco's mouth as he had told Harry to stop. 'D-Draco,' Harry now stammered for a third time — this time with a great worry readable on his face as the boy stared at his own hands that were covered in red spots as well.

Lost for words, Draco brought a hand to his mouth and dared to glance at his fingers as he drew them back. Blood was smeared at every tip, little drops of it falling down in the pure white snow. 'I — I,' he tried, but he didn’t seem to find any words to describe what was going on. His heart was beating normal again and even though he still could taste the blood that had appeared in his mouth; he somehow knew there wouldn't follow any more.

'Are you — are you alright?' Harry finally dared to ask. The boy's eyes were shining again; this time with tears instead of discovery. 

Slowly nodding his head, Draco got up to his feet with Harry following right behind. 'I just — I can't tell you anything, Harry,' he then said. ' _Je suis très désolé_.' It was then that Draco himself started to cry; tears rolling down his cheeks and mixing themselves with the last of the blood in his mouth. He had been close to dying, hadn't he? 

'I understand now,' Harry replied as he pulled Draco closer to him into an embrace. With the boy's head against his shoulder, Draco slowly put his arms around him as well. 'We'll — find a way.'

Were they going to, Draco wondered. Was there really a way to be able to tell Harry about the task he had been given without dying? Hadn't he almost died by just some speculations coming from the Chosen One's mouth? Scared, Draco suddenly realized that there might be a chance he would die even if Harry ever found out himself. Would that really be the case? Would Harry be able to find out _exactly_ what Draco was going to do without him telling the boy? Hoping and praying in his head that that wouldn't happen, Draco tightened his embrace around Harry’s figure. 'There is one thing I might be able to tell you though,' Draco told him in whispers. His voice sounded off because of the tears, but his mind needed to get it out — needed to at least give Harry somewhat of a warning.

'What is it?' the boy asked, his own voice a tad different as well.

'Castor Idel,' Draco started.

'The boy from Slytherin?'

With a nod, Draco continued. 'He's one of them; _il a la marque.'_ Immediately Harry drew his head back, looked into Draco's eyes to confirm his words were true. 'He has a task of his own — one that might be equally as dangerous as mine. I'm warning you, Harry; keep an eye on him instead of trying to help me. The more you want to help me… the more chance I have of dying.'

Draco’s heart skipped another beat at his last words, but Draco knew it wasn't enough to make him fall to his knees and die right there — the Dark Lord's curse would only be fatal at complete exposure. Harry nodded his head at his lover's words. 'I will, then,' he replied. 'But be careful, my butterfly.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

It was a _terrible_ idea. The most stupid one they had ever had. What if he would see Harry anyway? What if he would find out Draco had brought another person along with him? And it wasn't just some other person — _no_ — it was the Chosen One himself.

Sneaking out of the common room again with this time Harry on his heels, hiding underneath his invisibility cloak — Draco didn't know how to feel at all. He was nervous and scared; afraid that something would happen to Harry must he be discovered.

As they stepped through the portrait's hole, a dark hallway greeted them with many sleeping portraits displayed on their walls. The Fat Lady was asleep as well and once again seemed unaware that students had sneaked out of the common room she was hiding away. ' _Es-tu sûr?_ ' he asked Harry in whispers. Glancing over his shoulder, but of course not seeing Harry at all, Draco hoped to radiate a certain worry over to him.

'I am,' Harry replied in a hushed voice of himself. 'I must know what he's up to — I must see it with my own eyes. Especially if you can't tell me personally.'

Draco didn't know what to say; he had already tried to get the idea out of Harry's head ever since he had told him about Castor being a Death Eater and to why he had been going to the seventh floor so often. All he had told Harry was that there was a special room; the Room of Requirement which held many objects that were either lost or hidden away for strange reasons. He hadn't dared to say a word about the object they had been working on; a cabinet of which Draco had no idea of what it did. All he knew was that there had to be certain spells cast upon it of which Castor wasn't powerful enough to do so himself — and apparently, Draco was.

Harry had told Draco that the room they had used for their secret D.A. meetings had also been on the seventh floor, and that it simply had to be the same room yet transformed into a completely different one on the inside. Perhaps, Draco thought; as he had sworn to have seen some duel-practice puppets there before.

As they entered the hallway of the seventh floor, Draco already started looking around to catch a glimpse of blond or green somewhere; searching for Castor whom usually showed up out of an alcove or came striding from around a corner. He liked to surprise Draco and scare him; make the French jump a little as he walked over to him in a sneaky way. Today was no different as the git suddenly appeared from one of the darker parts of the hallway; a smirk gracing his face as he gestured towards the blank wall which slowly exposed a grand door.

Without a word said, Draco followed Castor inside and hoped Harry would do the same. He did indeed as he felt a soft brush of a hand, or maybe just the cloak's fabric, brush his arm. Having been inside many times before; Draco wasn't amazed anymore to see the many interesting objects around him, hear a wireless play the same tune over and over again or see some weird creatures fly underneath the ceiling — their wings fluttering their last bit of life before falling down onto the many objects. He knew Harry was looking around in awe, though; probably too curious to know what every little thing was. But Draco followed Castor straight to the tall, dark object that was the cabinet they had been working on for weeks now.

Castor opened one of its doors and peeked inside. A few cursing words followed as he leaned closer, his face and arms disappearing inside to return a few seconds later with the bird Draco had given to him dead in his hands. 'It's bloody dead,' he called out as he shoved the poor bird into Draco's hands.

'Well, it was hurt already so it was only a matter of time, and —,' Draco started, but the boy interrupted him by slamming the cabinet's door loudly.

It startled Draco, which nearly made him drop the bird in his hands. He glanced at it; a peaceful expression on the little creature because of, what Draco hoped to be, a peaceful death. 'It isn't working!' Castor's anger for the dead bird had transformed itself into anger for the cabinet.

'If you could maybe tell me what it did; I would be able to help you better,' Draco said in all honesty, but Castor shook his head.

'I can't; I have orders not to tell what it does exactly. They're afraid you'll tell _him_ ,' Castor replied. ' _Your Harry_.'

Swallowing because of the fact that that same Harry was standing right beside them, Draco looked away for a few seconds before being able to focus himself again. 'Right,' he answered. 'Then at least let me take a look at it again, _non_? Maybe I looked over something last time.'

Castor pinched his nose's bridge before nodding his head and gesturing to the cabinet. 'Be my guest.'

Carefully placing the dead bird on a soft velvet cushion which laid deserted next to the cabinet, Draco started to study the strange object a little more. He sincerely hoped Harry was looking at it as well; studying it with Draco's eyes for once. 'Is it supposed to keep something alive?' Draco guessed, wondering why else Castor had been so disappointed to see the bird dead.

The Slytherin lowered himself on an old chair which was positioned close to the cabinet while shaking his head. 'No, not at all. Well, it isn't really a good thing if someone dies when inside but — but that isn't the point!' Getting angry at himself for almost spoiling something, he put on a pout and crossed his arms. 'Just continue working, French kid.'

But what else could Draco do to the cabinet? He had casted a million spells on it already; every kind of magic that could make an object magically do something. A spell to make the bloody thing dance, he had even casted upon it — yet nothing had happened. 'Will you be needing a new bird for it?' Draco then asked, glancing at the dead bird again whom still laid peacefully on the pillow.

'Something else should be fine as well,' Castor said while glancing around. His eyes then fell upona porcelain statue of a dog, missing its head; an object any person would simply throw away instead of hiding in a special room at Hogwarts. 'Here, try this.' Throwing the statue in Draco's direction and hoping the boy would catch it, Draco saw how it suddenly collided into something — _something invisible_. Cursing himself and Harry on the inside; he saw the china statue fall to pieces onto the floor. Castor was out of his chair in seconds, drew his wand and suspiciously looked around. 'What was that?' he asked Draco and the objects around him.

Draco shrugged. 'I have no idea… but it's a strange room anyway.' Acting like it was the most normal thing to happen, he focused himself on the cabinet again.

But Castor simply didn't seem to let it go. 'It collided into something. Something here.' Reaching out his hand in, what was, Harry's direction — they fortunately only caught thin air. 'Strange,' the boy said as he took another look around.

'I told you,' Draco repeated. 'Its a strange room.'

'Maybe.' Castor picked up another object from a pile and threw it in Draco's direction as well. Unaware of it, Draco couldn't catch it and felt it shatter to pieces against his body.

Throwing a vile glare at him, he saw how Castor's eyes still stared at the spot where the statue had collided with Harry before — still sure there was something there. Another object followed, this time caught in Draco's hands. But then another one, and another one, _and another one._ They all hit Draco rather hard and the French eventually threw one back; Castor ducking away only a second fast enough. ' _Arrête ça!'_ Draco called out as Castor picked up another object, ready to throw.

'There is something there!' Castor said again as he pointed at the spot. He then bowed his arm, and as his hand was about to throw the object into Draco's direction again, he suddenly grabbed for his stomach and fell to his knees. An expression of pain appeared on his face as he let out a high-pitched cry.

'What's wrong?' Draco asked, trying to sound confused even though he knew Harry had hit him rather hard in the stomach.

'There is something here,' Castor managed to get out. 'Perhaps we should leave for the night if it wishes to be alone.'

'Scared, Idel?' Draco asked, looking down upon the blond Slytherin with a tiny smirk of himself gracing his face.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They had left a new object behind in the cabinet; for whatever reason that had to be done. Draco still wasn't really sure what it did, but suspected it of maybe vanishing things. 'He had been surprised when the bird had still been there; it has happened many times before so I know he was. Over and over -- he's disappointed to find it again,' he explained to Harry in whispers. They were back in the dormitory, laying close to each other in Harry's bed and with the curtains drawn close. It had been a while since Draco had slept in the same bed as Harry; he had been too occupied with sneaking out of the dormitory at night or simply didn't feel like searching for affection. But now; now he just wanted to be close to him again.

'I believe there's a possibility you're right, Draco,' Harry answered him. 'But why does he want to fix it? What does it have to do with his task?'

Draco sighed. He himself had no idea at all nor did he know exactly how a vanishing cabinet worked. 'All I know is that a vanishing cabinet vanishes things; wether it disappears forever or shows up somewhere else — I'm not quite sure.'

The boy's eyes squinted themselves slightly, to then relax again. 'That brought up an idea in my head actually,' Harry admitted. 'But that would be rather difficult.'

'Care to share that idea?' Draco asked with a little smile, but Harry shook his head.

'It's only a theory; I'll explain it to you once I've figured it out.' The boy then sneaked a hand around Draco's waist and pulled him a bit closer, his head resting on Draco's shoulder before closing his eyes.

Draco heard how Harry's breath quickly became steady; him falling into a peaceful sleep after a night full of adventure. But he himself found it hard to fall asleep at all. His task and now that of Castor as well were weighing down upon his chest; doom's day getting closer and closer.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

A dream of a small blond boy, dressed in blue from head toe toe, running around in a field of grass. Purple flowers. Lavender. The smell of summer and a beautiful sun shining down upon his head. Was he the small boy? It had to be. 'Draco!' A voice, which he recognized as his mother's, called out. Yet she was nowhere to be seen; her slender figure not hiding behind a tree or in the lavender. She simply wasn't there. The tiny boy ran, his legs going full speed as he zoomed through the flowers. He then stopped. A dark object; taller than anything he had ever seen before doomed up in front of his eyes. Its door opened itself with a loud creak. Curious, the tiny boy crawled inside, into darkness. A sobbing; someone crying next to him. 

'Hello?' he asked with his tiny little voice, but there was no answer -- only cries  


The door then opened itself again. Bright light shone in which, if looked up to the sky, was caused by the moon. Turning himself to the crying figure next to him again; he saw an older version of himself whom he recognized all too well. An older Draco was seated against the back of the cabinet, his knees drawn up and his eyes staring into nothingness. Cries came from his presence yet his mouth didn't move. It was as if his soul had left his body and was haunting around the cabinet; trying to get back inside its skin but unable to do so.

Afraid, tiny Draco climbed out of the cabinet again and started running. Where was he anyway? The beautiful lavender field had transformed itself into the dark, macabre gardens of the Manor. In the distance he could already see the Manor itself and a few people dressed in black robes awaiting his arrival. Frightened to his tiny bones, Draco turned around but collided into someone else. Looking up, he saw the bright red eyes of Voldemort stare back -- greet him with a smile of fanged teeth.

Waking up from his nightmare, Draco sat up straight in bed. He glanced at Harry whom was still peacefully asleep beside him -- laying on his tummy with his face pointed in the other direction. A deep sigh followed as he wiped over his face with his hands, noticed how sweaty they were. In silence he crawled out of Harry's bed; back into his own to be greeted by cool sheets. Telling himself it was just a dream; that he wasn't his tiny self anymore and that he neither was a soul-less creature in a vanishing cabinet, Draco closed his eyes again to hopefully be greeted by a more peaceful dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally more inspiration to finish this chapter! I feel like I finally know where to go with the Half-Blood prince part. I don't have much to say about this chapter, actually, but let's point out a few things if they're perhaps not very clear.
> 
> So, Castor -- of course -- it basically the Draco 'we sort of know from the real books/movies'. I just thought it would be a fun way to bring like another side of him into the story, even though he's also an entirely different person. I've already mentioned him like 2 times before in other chapters but from this one on he will start to play an important role *hint*. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)


	7. La confiance

 

**_C H A P T E R 1 7_ **

_Draco_

 

It was time to bring those shades of pale blue back; his finest robes with glitter and silver, gold. Draco brought the silk fabric up to his face, smelled a fragrance that reminded him of Beauxbatons. It felt so soft against his cheek, the material the finest of all. 'Shall this do for tonight?' he asked Harry, glancing over his shoulder at the boy.

Harry himself was wearing a normal black suit which a Muggle would wear, his hair a mess as usual and his glasses the only accessory the boy would ever need. 'Probably,' he replied, not even looking at the robes Draco held in his hands.

Tonight was Slughorn's Christmas party, and even though Harry couldn't care less about it — Draco knew a lot of important Wizards and Witches would be there. 'I heard he even invited a vampire,' he told Harry as he pulled his Gryffindor jumper over his head, exchanged them for the beautiful robes he had missed wearing so greatly.

'A vampire?' Harry's interest was triggered and the boy threw Draco a weird look with his eyes. 'Really?'

Draco nodded as a reply, brushed through his hair with his golden comb. It had grown ever since his difindo, but he had kept it at a length just under his ears. He liked the way it softly waved; something he hadn't noticed as it had always fallen down as straight as straight could be before. 'You shouldn't worry yourself too much about our guests — _non_ , you should worry yourself about your task.'

Harry let out a sigh. The poor boy had tried already many times to talk to the potions professor; but it almost seemed as if the man didn't let any conversation go in the direction that Harry wanted to take it in. From the second Harry said a word about Riddle or even just a memory; Slughorn would change the subject dramatically and act like Harry hadn't mentioned anything about it at all. The Christmas party would be another opportunity for Harry to talk to the man and perhaps finally get something out of him. 'It'll probably be a failure once again,' the boy admitted with another sigh. 'Why has Dumbledore given me this task anyway? Isn't he more capable of it himself?'

Hanging a piece of pearl jewelry around his left ear, Draco turned around to stare at Harry; a sudden lost boy. 'I'm sure that Dumbledore has given you this task for a reason, Harry. _Il croit en toi.'_ Placing a hand on the boy's shoulder and giving him a kiss on the cheek, Draco threw him a smile and gestured for him to follow. 'We should go before we're late.'

Gold was draped over the ceiling to the floor; making it appear like Slughorn's office had transfigured itself into a tent. It was quite crowded and Draco had to push a few people out of the way to make sure he and Harry could pass. Holding his chin up high and throwing everyone a dissatisfied glance, he managed to get to the centre of the room with the elegance he had hoped to enter with. 'Here we are,' he heard Harry mutter — perhaps to himself, perhaps to Draco, perhaps to no-one at all.

As professor Slughorn suddenly passed by, dressed in the most awful purple robes, Draco gave Harry a little push. 'Go on then,' he said to him between his teeth, keeping a little bit of a smile on his face as he saw others glance in their direction. Harry threw him a glare before hurrying himself after Slughorn in the most clumsy way; leaving Draco behind with a weird Wizard staring at him with hungry eyes. _The vampire, probably._

'Draco,' a voice then suddenly said. Turning around he saw Castor appear in front of his eyes; his hair combed neatly and wearing plain black robes which held his family's crest on the heart. 'Didn't know you were part of the Slug Club?'

'Didn't know you were either,' Draco answered, biting his teeth a little. He had to meet Castor enough times already; could he seriously not enjoy one single evening without the bloody bastard?

Castor put on a little smirk as he took in Draco's robes. 'Aren't those for girls? I swear I've seen my mother wear them once.'

Trying to maintain his anger, Draco raised his chin a little while squinting his eyes at the boy. 'Bet I look better in them than her — judging by the looks of her child she herself isn't quite the beauty, _est-elle?'_ That simple comment seemed to explode fireworks in Castor's brain. Taking a step forward and trying to intimidate Draco with his short figure and angry-looking face, Castor was quite the sight. 'No need to get so upset, Castor. Aren't we equals after all?'

A push against Draco's shoulder then followed, and as he stumbled a few steps backwards; everyone in the room seemed to have noticed. As Castor lifted one of his hands dramatically, ready to say something to Draco in an angry fashion, professor Snape walked over to them with a rather displeased expression on his face. 'Causing a scene, mister Idel?'

Snape's presence seemed to calm Castor down, make him wipe invisible wrinkles out of his robes and look at his head of house with innocent eyes. 'Not at all, sir,' he answered him.

Giving Castor one more look with his eyes, Snape drooped off again — and Castor eventually as well. 'What was that all about? Are you alright, Draco?' another new voice said.

Neville stood next to Draco, a tray in his hands filled with bubbling drinks. 'Neville,' Draco called out as he took in the boy's figure. Dressed in waiter's clothes — Draco immediately saw he wasn't part of the Slug Club. 'I am, _merci_.'

'Castor has always been a bully,' Neville told Draco with a sigh — Draco taking a drink off his tray. 'I can't even count the times he has made me trip in the hallway on my hands anymore.'

Getting called away by someone wanting a drink, Draco was quickly left alone again. Letting his eyes roam the room, he soon saw a new opportunity of a conversation. Hermione Granger, dressed in a beautiful pink dress, stood all alone and hidden away behind one of the drapings. Slowly sliding the long piece of fabric aside, he looked at her sulking self which was clearly upset about something. ' _Bon soir_ , Hermione,' he said before joining her in her hiding.

It seemed to startle Hermione as she sighed deeply and placed a hand upon her heart. 'Thought you were McLaggen,' she answered in a hushed tone.

'Why? Is he annoying you? Should I got talk to him?' Already looking for the boy himself from behind the draping, Draco felt Hermione pull him back by his sleeve.

'No — or maybe… but it's my own fault! I asked him as my date for this party,' she admitted. 

Draco could literally see Hermione curse herself from the inside out. 'Why didn't you ask Ron instead?' 

Hermione now threw him a look with her eyes that could tell tales. 'Haven't you noticed he's already quite occupied enough with someone else?'

Frowning his eyebrows, Draco tried to remember if he had seen around another girl the last couple of days. Suddenly remembering him hanging around a girl he knew was named Lavender Brown a lot, often talking quite intimately, Draco nodded his head. 'Of course; I apologize.'

'And why should I have wanted to ask him in the first place? It's not like I — like I…'

'Love him?'

'Precisely! I don't see him the same way as you and Harry do.'

'You don't?'

'No — not at all.' Shaking her head far too many times, Hermione looked away from Draco's eyes. The draping got drawn aside again, startling now both Draco as Hermione. To their relief, it was Harry's face that doomed up between all the glittering gold.

'Why are you hiding?' he asked the pair in confusion.

Rolling with his eyes, Draco gave Hermione a little smile before pulling Harry from behind the draping again. 'Problems with her date,' Draco explained as they walked a little further away from her and positioned themselves close to professor Slughorn — talking to a few of his former students. 'How did your conversation with the man go?'

Harry sighed deeply, which was already enough for Draco to know how it went. 'You won't believe how many questions he kept asking me about this party; wether I liked the food, wether _you_ liked it. I seriously don't know what to do anymore,' Harry said to him.

Holding in a grin, Draco placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. 'You'll get your chance,' he said to him, trying to encourage what seemed to be a lost cause. Draco's eyes then suddenly fell upon another invitee; a man wearing teal-colored robes and holding a strange looking vial in his hands. Talking to others in an animated way, he seemed to be explaining a potion to them. 'I just got an idea, Harry,' he then said as an imaginary lightbulb enlightened itself above his head.

'An idea?'

Nodding, Draco couldn't help but grin. 'But it might have to wait until after the holidays.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Harry was invited over to celebrate the holidays at the Weasley's, and Draco to his grand surprise as well. 'I want you to bring that cute boy of yours, Harry,' Molly had written to him in a letter. 'No matter what my dear Arthur thinks of him. No-one deserves to be alone during the most cheerful time of the year.'

Of course Draco could go home as well, to his mother whom was probably all alone in England's most gruesome manor. But what if _he_ was there again? Draco wouldn't be able to ever face the man from that close again, probably. He had nearly fainted last time when he had been called into the room with him; his red eyes staring right into his the whole time as he had explained a task Draco had to perform. His snake-like face had been disturbing, unnatural to Draco to look at and he hadn't been able to keep himself from vomiting afterwards — terrible nerves playing a big part in that as well.

No, there was no way he was going home for the holidays — wether his mother was all alone or not. Accepting Molly Weasley's offer, both Draco and Harry were boarding the Hogwarts Express to make their way towards what was described as the most interesting Wizarding home of all. Ron didn't even seem bothered anymore with having Draco over; having him as a close friend now as well. It almost seemed as if in the few months that they haven't seen each other, he had somehow grown used to him. There were no more angry stares or blames of him being a Death Eater as well. Perhaps cleverness had come to the boy rather late. _Gryffindors_ , Draco reminded himself as he stared out the window.

Hermione was seated next to him, now the one to be rather smug than the ginger-head. She still wasn't very pleased with her best friend spending so much time — _snogging_ — with Lavender Brown. Draco had heard her cry a few days ago as well; somewhere in a deserted corridor with enchanted birds swarming above her head. They had talked; she had confessed somewhat of having feelings for the ginger-haired boy — but had found it hard to openly confess to the boy himself.

Draco knew what it was like to suppress feelings for someone; he had done it when in love with Harry and had seen the Beauxbatons' girls do it many times as well. It was a difficult thing, _love_ — but once it was shared and truthfully lived; it could be oh so beautiful as well.

The Burrow was nothing yet everything Draco had expected it to be. A house many stories high dooming up from tall grasses, greeting him not like an angry demon — like the manor always did — but like a friendly, gigantic bird that only wanted to be petted. As soon as they had opened the door, announcing their arrival, Molly's arms had wrapped around each and everyone of them — greeting Harry and Hermione as if her own children. Draco had been awkwardly waiting, not really expecting to get hugged as well; but Molly's arms wouldn't dare to skip a single soul.

He had felt Arthur's eyes immediately pointed on him, though, as he had stepped inside and observed the Weasley's their home. He still couldn't blame them; especially not now that he got a task from the Dark Lord. Many ticking sounds and house-hold magic soon drew away both Draco's as Arthur's attention, and as Draco observed the interesting clock in the kitchen; he was reminded of his old timepiece he had given to Harry. 'You still have it?' he asked the boy, whom was standing behind him and observing the clock as well — even though Draco knew the boy had probably seen it many times before.

'The timepiece?' the boy answered, reading Draco's mind and making the link between his question and the clock they were staring at. He then took out the shiny, golden object from his pocket. Observing it from Harry's palm, Draco watched how the hands of the clock pointed in his direction.

'It's still working just fine. _C'est beau;_ you never know when you'll need it again.' A little smile followed which Harry answered with one of him as well, and a kiss on the boy's cheek of course.

Molly then announced that she had been cooking all day, and that dinner was to be served within the next fifteen minutes — if they could please go put their things away and wash their hands and faces? _Thank you very much._

Hurrying himself up the stairs after all the others, Draco looked at the crooked portraits on the walls that greeted him with waving hands. Red-headed Wizards and Witches dressed in the most colorful clothes all seemed cheerful to see everyone again; even Draco whom they had probably never seen before, they treated as if he had always been a part of their family. 'You'll be sleeping with Harry and I, Draco,' Ron then said, gesturing towards a door a few more floors up. 'If you don't mind.'

'To me it never was a problem, _ma belette_. To you, however, it was,' he replied to him with a squint of his eyes.

Ron gave him a weird look at the French word, which made both Harry as Hermione laugh as they probably knew its translation, and then blinked a few times with his eyes. 'That's the past,' he then said. 'I have come to the understanding that you're not like your father.'

Impressed by Ron's genuine words, Draco felt his cheeks glow. The fact that he could make the most hard-headed person in the Wizarding World change his opinion of him, made him feel like the elegant and sublime Wizard he had always been. ' _Merci_ , Ron. I appreciate that.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They had gathered themselves in Ron's bedroom, sitting around a little fire created from burned Prophets. Ginny had joined as well, as Hermione — and together they were discussing Quidditch tactics and how trainings and matches had gone so far. Draco had tried to follow some of the Quidditch matches at Beauxbatons last year; had observed the players in blue against the ones in gold — the gold ones against the white — and the white against the silver. It had triggered his interest in knowing every single detail about the sport and he had quickly indulged himself in everything there was to know about it. Now he was basically a walking Quidditch-encyclopedia and he kind of felt proud of that fact.

He knew everything they were talking about; added some of his own thoughts into the mix and often got positive feedbacks in return. Harry was even confident that with his help, they would definitely be able to win the cup again this year. 'I'm glad that you're our Keeper, Ron — and not McLaggen,' Ginny told her brother. 'Bet you are as well, right?' She glanced at Hermione, who's mood seemed to be lifted a bit ever since they had arrived at the Burrow.

A nod of her curly head followed. 'He was quite the disastrous date, wasn't he?' she then said, letting out a little laugh that shortly after was followed by many more.

'I should've gone with you,' Ron then admitted, and everyone grew quiet again. Draco looked from Ron to Hermione; to catch her reaction to his words. All he saw was that she was getting as red as a tomato, slowly hiding herself behind her curly hair.

As Ron wanted to say something else to her, perhaps something that would matter greatly to their relationship — the sound of a loud explosion caught their ears. As they turned themselves to the bedroom's window, they saw flames as high as the Burrow itself rise up out of nowhere — followed by flashes of black smoke.

_Death Eaters._

Draco's heart started to beat fast, his breathing as well and he suddenly couldn't move anymore. The others got up to their feet, hurried themselves downstairs to see what all the fuss was about. But Draco slowly stood up and went over to the window; watched how a circle of fire and flames formed itself around the Burrow. Around a home. The home of a man whom had never trusted him and was right to do so.

Were they here for him?

As that same yellow circle of Death grew and grew, Draco was shaken out of his state by Harry's hand — placed upon his shoulder and asking for his help. He followed the boy downstairs, through the door and onto the grassy grounds. A black figure whom he recognized as Bellatrix Lestrange stood on the other side; glaring at Harry with murderous yet teasing eyes.

And it worked; it made Harry run after her — through the circle of that yellow fire and through the tall grasses of the Weasley premises. 'Harry!' Arthur called out after him, already hurrying himself behind the boy. A large flame rose up in front of him; denying him his passage. Draco ran over to the man, rose his own wand up to the night sky and started whispering spells together with Arthur. He caught the man glancing at him with eyes that seemed to radiate a trust he had never felt upon him before — at least, not from that same man.

The fire then made a way; a passage for them to pass and they both started running — Draco's legs faster than ever. _I don't run_ , he repeated to himself. _I never run._ But yet again he was running — and wouldn't he keep on running for Harry? He caught a glimpse of raven-colored hair in the distance, but it soon disappeared behind the tall grasses again.

He had to stop; catch for breath and focus his mind. He tried to listen for any movement, but the beating of his heart in his ears made the quiet grounds around him sound loud and busy. How badly he wished he was now the one to have a timepiece that would lead him to Harry.

A sound, the grasses moving — there was someone behind him. Turning around with his wand pointed at whomever was nearing; Draco was ready to attack and cast spells to defend both him as Harry — as all the others whom were there. But it wasn't necessary, as it was Harry himself who stumbled out of the grass into Draco's arms. 'She's gone,' he said to him, almost in whispers.

Yet Draco didn't believe that, and he was right for doing so. A bright flash of red was fired their way and Draco, with his wand still raised, was just a tad fast enough to cast a counter curse and protect both himself as Harry. With Harry's attention now awakened again as well, they stood back to back while glancing around them — their ears trying to catch a hint of where the female Death Eater was hiding herself.

Another red flare; this time even more violent was fired at Harry — but casted off with the perfect Protego spell. Draco decided to whisper a few protection spells of himself that would create a shield around him and Harry; that would protect them against any kind of curse that Bellatrix would try to fire at them. But as he was so busy doing just that, he almost didn't catch the woman herself transfiguring back into her smoke-like self and floating off in the direction of the Burrow.

The fire they had seen roaring around it now broke free in the house itself; windows shattering and pieces of glass raining down upon the grounds around it. Immediately stopping what he was doing, Draco hurried himself back to the house with Harry by his side. Everyone was outside, fortunately, looking up at what once was their home — and was now being destroyed. Molly Weasley stood defeated next to Ron, glancing up at the structure with tears in her eyes.

 _'Nous devons éteindre le feu!'_ Draco called out, not even noticing he was saying it in French. Stepping closer to the house and feeling the fire's warmth sting in his face, he raised both his hands with his wand in one. Not whispering but shouting spells at the house now, he desperately tried to extinguish the fire that was destroying someone's beloved possession — someone's home. Tears were welling up in his eyes as he thought of the wonderful clock in the kitchen, the friendly portraits against the walls and all the other magical little things the Weasleys had collected over the years.

So busy trying to save someone else's home — a home he wished he had had instead of that cold manor — he didn't even feel Arthur's hand on his shoulder. 'Boy,' the man said. 'Let it go. We can't save it.'

' _Oui nous pouvons!_ We must!' Flicking his wand at the fire with an aggression flowing from his arm, he could see how a single flame extinguished before getting revived by the many others again.

'It's a helpless cause for now,' Arthur admitted with a sigh. 'We'll try our best to fix it once the fire's out.'

'Then it'll be gone, _monsieur_ Weasley!' Draco's hands were trembling, his magic slowly taking up all of his energy. 'I can't let that happen!'

Arthur gave him a little smile before slowly pushing his right hand down, making the blond lower his wand. 'It won't; I promise. This house has been through many things through many generations. It'll survive.'

Feeling worn-out, Draco lowered his other hand as well and nodded his head slowly. He then glanced over his shoulder at the others; most of them with tears in their eyes and the girls their heads resting on the boys their shoulders. 'It's all my fault,' he then said, whispered.

'I don't believe—'

'They were here for me. _Je suis sûr._ '

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Of course Arthur didn't want to believe they were  _especially_ there for Draco; he simply believed they had been following both him as the others of the family for already quite some time. Molly hadn't even dared to leave the house ever since Halloween, apparently. They had indeed been able to restore most of the Burrow the follows days — but the fire had done a lot of damage that magic simply couldn't fix anymore. Feeling guilty, Draco had left a small purse on his bed's pillow holding a few galleons — as his family had enough to spare.

Going back to Hogwarts had never been so double for all of them before; they knew they would be safe there again but still Draco was just waiting for Bellatrix to show up outside their window to burn the whole castle down. A few nights after they had returned Draco also started to suffer from nightmares; ones where he was trying to extinguish the fire of the Burrow by holding his hands in the flames — as if it would help the spells to transfer better from his body to the house. And then from one terrible scene to another he was thrown; suddenly face-to-face with Dumbledore with awand pointed at the old man's face — ready to cast the spell of Death and complete the task he was so desperately trying to get rid of.

Waking up with sweat dripping down his face, he had awoken Harry many times as well. The boy had comforted him, like he always did, and listened to Draco cry softly into the night, trying to let his nightmares fade away. It tired the both of them; not to mention Draco often still had to help bloody Castor with his bloody Vanishing Cabinet. Couldn't the sodding idiot just handle _his_ task _himself_? And that moron was to be called an official Death Eater? _Pathetic_.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Felix Felicis; a small yet strong potion Harry had won during one of his Potion classes. Slughorn had rewarded it to the student whom would be able to brew Living Death. And Harry, with his Half-Blood Prince book at hand, had been able to brew just that. Draco's had been close as well, only a few things missing to truly make something fade away — but hadn't been jealous of Harry at all. Liquid Luck wasn't necessary for him as he saw his luck in the boy whom had been able to capture it at that point; gleaming with pride while holding the tiny vial.

It now came in handy; something they should've used a long time before. And with the vial in Harry's hand, it was about time they'd use it. Seated in front of the fireplace, on a scarlet colored carpet in the Gryffindor common room, Harry kept on hesitating wether to take it or not. ' _Alors_ , can you please hurry up a bit? I don't want to spend my whole evening waiting for you to take the potion,' Draco said to him to push the boy.

Harry just sighed and glanced at Hermione, who had been against the idea from the start. 'What if something goes wrong?' she had said, not believing that it would help Harry any further with obtaining the memory. Ron on the other hand had been all in for it; wanted to see Harry when influenced by the potion and was cheering for him to take it.

And so he did. The clear substance with tiny sparks of gold disappeared down Harry's throat — and for a second if was dead silent. Draco stared at Harry with big eyes, waiting for something to happen or for him to say anything. 'How — how do you feel?' he eventually asked.

'I feel great!' Harry answered, a smile suddenly appearing on his face as he got up to his feet.

'You're going to Slughorn?' Hermione asked, standing up as well followed by Draco and Ron. With the three of them next to each other, they watched how Harry made his way to the portrait hole.

The boy shook his head. 'I'm going to see Hagrid — I feel like it's the place to be tonight.'

'Hagrid?' Draco reacted, bolting forward to take the boy by his hand. 'You have to go to Slughon; get the memory!'

Harry gave him a weird look, as if Draco had said something absurd. 'Alright!' he then called out, way too loud for Harry's normal doing. He then kissed Draco's hand — something he had never done before — and left the common room. Looking over his shoulder at Hermione and Ron, Draco could see they were just as confused and worried about Harry as he was.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

That same night, already way past midnight, Draco was stirred awake by Harry — a big smile still gracing his face as he held up a little vial in his hand, a white light glowing from it. 'I got it!' he nearly shouted. Draco, Hermione and Ron had been waiting for hours on end in the common room — worried wether something would happen to Harry or not. When he still hadn't returned around eleven, they had all gone to bed with a little heart. It had been hard for Draco to fall asleep, and it felt like he had just closed his eyes when he had to open them again for Harry.

Blinking a few times to get the sleep out of his eyes, Draco hushed the boy by pressing a finger against his lips. 'That's very good of you, Harry — but keep yourself a bit more quiet.'

'Sorry,' he answered, still a little loud but at least better than before.

It was storming outside — rain clashing against the windows. A howl resounded through the walls; the sign of an old castle asleep. 'Is it still working?' Draco asked, searching Harry's green eyes and noticing they were more vibrant than usual.

The smile that graced the boy's face turned rather cheeky as he bended forward, his face closer to Draco's and making the French slowly sink away in his pillow. 'What are you doing, Harry?' With the boy now nearly on top of him, his vibrant eyes now full of lust — Draco knew that his luck was slowly running out. Especially when he had enough of this strange Harry, and decided to — for the second time in their relationship — throw the boy onto the floor. A loud WHAM followed and a moan of pain as well, Draco peering over the edge of his bed to see Harry squint his eyes. ' _Je suis désolé_ — but you totally deserved that.'

Pulling his blanket a little closer to his body and closing his eyes, Draco didn't even blame himself for going back to sleep. Lucky Harry would probably do that as well, eventually; Draco knew his luck had definitely ran out now he was on the floor next to his bed — regretting everything he had done the last few seconds.

The following morning, Harry kept on placing a hand on his head — trying to figure out just why it was hurting so much. 'I can't remember what happened,' he told Hermione, whom had given him worried glances. 'Did I perhaps have to fight with Slughorn to get the memory out of him? I thought I'd just persuaded the man with talking?'

Draco shrugged. 'I have no idea, Harry; must be a gap in your memory.' He couldn't help but grin a little, though, and he was sure Harry noticed as the boy gave him a weird look. It wasn't like they hadn't been _that_ physical before, it was just that Draco hadn't really felt like having a _high-on-Felix-Felicis Harry_ on top of him in the dormitory — the eyes of four other people staring at them. _Non, merci beaucoup._ And he certainly also wasn't feeling like telling Harry about it, as he knew the boy would probably melt away of shame.

'Anyway,' Harry then started. 'I'll go to Dumbledore's office after breakfast and see what the memory has been hiding from us. I have a feeling this will tell us what to do — will change the way we thought of defeating Voldemort forever.'

'Is it that important of a memory?' Ron asked, getting a nod from Harry's head in return.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Harry hadn't told Draco nor his best friends anything about the real memory; but Draco could see by the look in his eyes that it had been something life-changing — something that would indeed change everyone's perspective on how to end the misery of Voldemort's ruling. To why he didn't want to share it; Draco had no idea. _Perhaps he's just waiting for the right moment_ , he thought to himself. Walking up the stairs to Divination, a class he was the only one of the four of them to take, he was suddenly stopped by Dumbledore who had appeared once again out of nowhere. 'Draco, my boy,' he said with a little smile. The first thing Draco noticed was that his hand had become darker again — black as a raven's body and a night without stars. 'Can we discuss something for a minute?'

Following the man into a deserted classroom nearby, Draco seated himself on one of the wooden chairs. The headmaster himself leaned against the desk at the front, observing a skeleton of a bird that was placed upon it. 'Has it to do—,' Draco started.

'With you task? It indeed has,' Dumbledore interrupted him. 'I believe tomorrow will be the day.'

A stone, perhaps even a boulder, weighing a ton hit Draco in his imagination at hearing those words. _But I don't want to_ , he said to himself. A little creature inside him however, planted there by Voldemort himself, seemed to cheer at the announcement of his task nearing. 'How do you know?' Draco asked.

'I must leave tomorrow to somewhere of high importance; a dangerous place to which I will bring Harry along.' Draco wanted to interrupt him, ask him why he had to bring Harry, but the man hushed him by holding up a hand. 'Before you ask; Harry knows the danger of it and is the only one that can help me with it. You'll soon be informed what it's all about. Have patience, my boy.' Draco nodded his head, even though his patience was terribly lacking at that moment. 'As I believe, mister Idel somehow knows of my traveling and will take advantage of it by completing his task — which means yours will have to be completed as well.'

'You know about Idel's task?'

Dumbledore nodded his head. _Of course the man knows_. 'I just want you to know to not be afraid, Draco — and to trust me.'

'How can't I be afraid?' Draco then said, interrupting the man's words. 'I'm terrified and I don't — I don't want to kill you!' Bolting up from his chair, he looked into the headmaster's eyes; staying calm and looking at Draco with a certain pity. 

'Perhaps you won't have to,' was all the man had left to say before slowly sauntering off, glancing at Draco with mysterious eyes before leaving the classroom.

' _Que voulez-vous dire?_ ' he said after the man, but Dumbledore ignored his words. Leaving the classroom as well a few seconds behind him, Draco noticed the man was already gone.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Later that day Castor approached him as well, and Draco was prepared to hear him ramble on about his task again, yet all the boy had to say was one single word. _Tomorrow_. He had then stormed off again like he always did, his blond hair flashing away through the hallway accompanied by his slick black suit. Draco always thought he looked a lot like himself from behind, but he knew they were two totally different people when it came to personality.

He couldn't help but worry about Harry the next day when they were seated for lunch, the boy not daring to tell his friends nor Draco anything about his dangerous plans with Dumbledore later that day. Draco also didn't dare himself to ask about it, and therefore remained quiet while observing Harry eating potatoes at a pace three times too fast for his liking. _Was he nervous as well?_

His own task nearing by the minute, by the second, was also very nerve-wrecking for Draco. What had Dumbledore meant with 'perhaps you won't have to'? Was someone else going to murder him first? Confused, Draco still couldn't get a bite through his throat. His plate stayed empty, the delicious smells of food not even appealing at all to the boy. 'You're not hungry?' Ron asked, glancing from Draco to the last pumpkin pastry between them.

Draco shook his head, to which the boy snatched the pastry away and indulged it like only he could. A nudge in the side followed by Hermione, but her attention soon got drawn away by Lavender Brown nearing the Gryffindor table. Her eyes were red and poofy, as if she had been crying all night. As she seated herself at the end of the table — far away from her dear Won-Won — she stared in their direction with fire in her eyes. 'Something wrong with her?' Harry asked, noticing her as well.

Ron swallowed and looked away. 'I just — all we do is snog the whole time and it's getting rather boring. Not to mention she makes me wear these dull necklaces with our names on,' the ginger-haired boy explained.

Love, Draco thought to himself again. What a complicated thing it was; especially when younger. Lavender's heart was probably shattered to pieces, her mind not able to get why Won-Won won’t wear her lovely silver necklace shaped in that of a heart. Draco automatically reached for his own medallion, which he also saw around Harry's neck — always there and hopefully forever to be remain.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

As the evening fell, Harry announced he was going to see Dumbledore in his office. He already rose from the sofa, took his jacket and wanted to leave as Draco took him by his arm. 'Wait,' he said to him. The boy turned around, a little smile on his face as he awaited what Draco wanted to say. 'Remember when I asked you wether nothing else mattered besides from us being together — from me being safe and here with you?' he asked, not daring to look at Harry's eyes as he wanted to hear the boy renew his promise.

'Yes, what about it?' Harry replied to it.

'Well, is that still — still the same for you?' 

Finally looking up into the boy's emerald eyes again, Draco tried to find anything that would point out wether Harry would lie about his answer, but as the boy answered with 'of course'; he couldn't spot any lies. Yet Draco was still worried the boy didn't understand truly what he was saying, what he was believing. Would he still care more about Draco being safe, being able to be with him than his dear headmaster Dumbledore? _Probably not._

Wrapping his arms around Harry, Draco inhaled the boy's pine scent as if for the last time. He felt how surprised Harry was by the strong embrace, but answered it with a pair of warm, strong arms of himself. _Please, don't let anything happen to him — nor me — not to us. Not to the butterfly and the lion._

As Harry finally left the common room, acting as if he wasn't going on a dangerous trip to Merlin-knew-where, Draco also decided it was time for him to leave. He had been given more clear instructions from Castor that morning, after getting pushed into a dark alcove and having the blond basically shoved against him. 'Wear black tonight; and best nothing too complicated as we must flee right after our tasks have been completed,' he had said, his dull grey eyes staring into Draco's with a fire he had never seen in them before — and it had scared him the tiniest bit. 'And most of all,' Castor had whispered to him before leaving. 'Don't get seen.'

Now he was making his way to the seventh floor again, meeting Castor in the left corner and awaiting the completion of his task. He was afraid, of course — scared to the bone at what was about to happen. They were almost identically dressed; Castor in his black suit he wore all the time and Draco's in the darkest pieces of clothing he owned. With his golden wand at hand, he sneaked into the Room of Requirement with Castor on his heels — the two of them immediately walking over to the Vanishing Cabinet which was making strange sounds. 'Is that — is that normal?' Draco asked, glancing at Castor beside him.

The Slytherin nodded his head with a smirk on his face, his eyes focused on one of the cabinet's handles; slowly bending downwards as if opened from the inside. And that was also the case, as the door opened itself and revealed clouds of black smoke — slowly transfiguring into Bellatrix Lestrange and a few other Death Eaters Draco had hoped to never see.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Harry

 

They had another horcrux; Salazar's medallion now safely in Harry's pocket. To why Dumbledore had trusted him with keeping it safe, Harry had no idea. Something was wrong, Harry knew, as Dumbledore had already been acting very strange the entire evening. It was almost as if he was only caring about Harry's life — as if his own was worth nothing anymore and could fade any second now. He had also lost a lot of his energy by drinking the strange water, to obtain the horcrux, but they still had been able to disapparate back to Hogwarts. Back on top of the Astronomy Tower, with the view of Scottish landscapes surrounding them — covered by blankets of the night — Dumbledore placed a hand atop of Harry's shoulder. 'You must leave now, Harry,' he said to him.

'I can't, professor — you're too weak to be left alone. We must go to madam Pomfrey or—'

'Trust me, Harry,' he interrupted him. The man didn't even seem to have the energy to look up into his eyes, and also let his hand slide of Harry's shoulder as he leaned against a pillar of the tower's structure.

'I'm going to get madam Pomfrey,' Harry concluded with certainty and already made his way for the stairs.

'Harry,' the headmaster then said, stopping him in his pace. 'Whatever happens; know it's the only way.'

Giving the man a confused glance over his shoulder, Harry decided the man was going mad; talking things that weren't making any sense. Quickly hurrying himself down the stairs, he was about to leave the tower when he heard more footsteps approach. Hiding himself behind another pillar, he heard how those same footsteps entered the room and started to go up the steps he had just descended. Harry peered from behind the pillar, but only got the seam of one's black robes. Who was meeting professor Dumbledore at an hour this late?

Curious to know who it was, Harry sneaked up the stairs again and waiting only a few away from the top of the tower. He couldn't hear the Wizard's voice properly; his whispering too soft to be carried to the staircase. Blond, dressed in black and clearly threatening Dumbledore with a wand. _Threatening Dumbledore with a wand?_ Who was this Wizard and why was he pointed his wand at the headmaster? _If only I could get closer_ , Harry thought to himself, _I might be able to identify him by that pointed wand._ But as he took another step up, he heard a load creak under his foot. Lowering himself a little, he heard how the Wizard turned himself around to glance at the staircase — Harry's perfect opportunity to see who it was… but he couldn't look as it would betray his presence. 'I'm sorry it has to go this way,' Harry heard Dumbledore say to the Wizard. 'I truly wish there was something we could do, my boy.' 

A soft cry then was hearable; as if the blond boy had suddenly started crying. Listening carefully, Harry tried to recognize to whom the whispering voice belonged, but it was almost as if a Silencio was cast upon him _only_ — as if it was Dumbledore that didn't want anyone to hear him talk to the boy.

Harry then heard another pair of footsteps, further away but definitely getting closer. Nearly running down the stairs in order to hide from the second person, he still wasn't fast enough. Severus Snape met him halfway, his eyes set darker than ever. Harry parted his lips, maybe to shout or ask for help — maybe to just don't do anything at all — but Snape held a finger against his lips, told the boy to stay silent. He then passed Harry as if nothing was going on at all, went up the stairs with a flare of his black robes. 'Albus,' he said as he reached the top. It was a strange way, how he said it — and how he didn't seem to draw his wand to point it at the boy. Harry was hiding on his previous spot again as well, glancing up to try and catch the slightest glimpse of what the boy looked like — who he was. He then also noticed that Dumbledore had no wand at all to defend himself; it laid deserted on the floor.

Another sound was heard at the bottom of the tower; voices far away and more footsteps — but not very near. Still, it drew Harry's attention away for a few seconds — which was enough for the scene he had been spying on to evolve into catastrophe. A bright green light filled the whole Astronomy tower and Harry could swear he heard someone shout in a muffled way. Blinded and confused by it all, he couldn't help himself from hiding away any longer. His curiosity wanted to come out; see what had happened and know who had died. Because there was only one spell in the entire Wizarding World that blasted off a curse with such a bright color of green; the spell of Death. Avada Kedavra had been casted — but on who?

And _by_ who?

As Harry went up the few more steps that were left, he saw that Dumbledore had disappeared out of sight — his figure gone as if swallowed by the dark night. The blond boy from before was looking down through the arched opening, at the grounds beneath the tower with shocking shoulders. _Is he still crying_ , Harry wondered. Was he crying because he had just killed the man? Anger boiled up inside of him, pushing away the grief and sadness he was feeling somewhere in his body as well. Dumbledore was dead. He was gone — and that blond boy had casted the spell!

The pieces of Harry's puzzle then fell into place as he realized who it was; it was that Slytherin named Castor that Draco had been secretly meeting with. Who else could it be? Draco had told him he had the mark — that he was a Death Eater obeying Voldemort's words. The French had warned him, but how stupid had Harry been for ignoring that knowledge every second he had been hiding on the tower's stairs? He knew the boy always dressed in black, and there was no denying that what he saw right now was what he had seen every time he had caught the boy walking away — storm away through some hallway after bullying children.

Stepping forward and entering the room, Harry drew his wand and pointed it at the boy's back. Furious, he was; a burning fire in human form. And before he knew it, he had casted the spell — a spell that was only to be used against his enemy. _Sectumsempra_. Harry had no idea what it did, but as soon as the blond boy turned around; he saw exactly what.

To his horror, it wasn't Castor that was standing there — the caster of the Death Curse. _It's Draco_. Draco stood in his place, wobbling on his feet, ready to fall down with his hands pressed against his chest and his wand fallen to the floor. Still in shock but aware of Draco falling backwards, almost going after Dumbledore, Harry bolted forward and took ahold of Draco's hand which he desperately reached out. It was covered in blood for some reason Harry didn't understand, and as he saved Draco by a hair from falling down — he saw how the French immediately collapsed onto the floor. 'Draco!' he finally managed to get out as he fell to his knees. It almost seemed as if a giant blade had sliced through Draco's body; leaving gigantic scars behind and blood simply everywhere.

'H-Harry,' Draco stammered in whispers. 'I'm not feeling so well.' Tears welled up into the boy his eyes, followed by cries that literally tore Harry's heart into a million pieces.

_What have I done?_

'Move,' another voice then said — of which Harry had totally forgotten had still been there. Snape pushed Harry aside as he fell to his knees as well, his wand still at hand, and started mumbling spells while waving the dark piece of wood over Draco's chest. Draco himself moaned from the pain, his eyes still shedding tears while looking dull and absent. 

'Will he be alright?' Harry asked, his breathing rapid and the whole room spinning around in circles like life had become one big ferris wheel. How could he have been so wrong? Never had his mind even thought about the fact that Draco had been the mystery wizard standing there — murdering Dumbledore as his task. Of course he had never truly known what Draco's task had been; only what task he had to help Castor with. Of course it had had to be something very dangerous, as Voldemort had placed a curse inside of him that would kill him at the slightest hint of what it was. Of course Harry should've known. Of course he should've known better. He then remembered Draco's timepiece in the pocket of his trousers -- always there for must it every come in handy, just like the boy had said. He could’ve known. 

_But he killed him. He killed Dumbledore._

Snape didn't even glance at Harry but answered him between the healing spells. 'Perhaps. You shouldn't have interfered.'

'Interfered? I had to stop him from murdering professor Dumbledore!' he said, and then suddenly realized something. 'And you? You were here, so why didn't you save him?'

More mumbled latin words were pronounced before Snape tucked his wand away. 'He would have never been able to complete the task,' he said as he rose to his feet again. 'And you should have never been able to cast that spell either.'

Glancing from Draco to Snape, Harry found it difficult to keep up with any new information that was entering his mind. At least it sounded like Draco hadn't murdered Dumbledore at all — hadn't been able to complete his task but had Snape let it do it for him. The voices were also still clearly there downstairs and it almost sounded as if an intense battle was going on. 'Did you know what that spell was going to do?'

'Of course I did,' Snape answered, biting his teeth. 'I invented it.'

'Then you're—'

'The Half-Blood prince, indeed. But it is not really the time to discuss that matter now — you must hide before the others find you,' Snape told him.

'The others?' Harry asked, still a bit mind-blown by the discovery of the book belonging to Snape, Dumbledore's death and Draco's injury he himself had caused.

Snape ignored his words once again. 'Leave now you still can, Potter.'

'But — but he needs help,' Harry said, glancing at Draco who still seemed to be in a lot of pain.

'And who's fault is that?' Snape replied before lowering himself again and lifting Draco's slender figure from the floor. 'He has to come with me.'

'To where?' Harry took a step closer to the professor, his eyes staring at Draco's face which grew paler by the second. Snape didn't answer him; but somehow Harry just knew he would take him back home; back to the Manor where _he_ was. 'You can't!' he protested. 'They'll hurt him or lock him up!'

Desperate, Harry took ahold of Draco's arm, as if to show he wouldn't let go of the boy so easily. A glare of eyes followed as Snape pushed him aside, Harry immediately losing his grip on the boy and stumbling backwards. 'I must return him to the Dark Lord, Potter. It is the only way.'  
  
And with those words said, Snape disappeared into night — away into nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so pleased to have wrapped up the Half-Blood Prince part because it seriously has been a rollercoaster for me on how to find what I wanted to do with it. Should I include the Sectumsempra or not? But, I realized, I just had to. 
> 
> Another thing I want to point out is that I named Castor 'Castor' as it's close to 'caster' which could refer to 'the caster of the Death curse' -- which of course he didn't even do, he just let some Death Eaters in after letting Draco fix the Vanishing Cabinet, but of course Harry think he did. It's also the name of a star (?) which makes it even more perfect and relatable to Draco :)
> 
> The photo I used for this chapter is obviously Draco's foot that Harry sees when he goes up the Astronomy tower's stairs -- like, seriously Harry? Can't you even recognize your lover by his foot? Pathetic.
> 
> Anyway, I hope enjoyed this chapter even though it's a bit sad! Thank you for the loving comments!


	8. L'obscurité

 

**_C H A P T E R 1 8_ **

 

_Down by the foot of the tower, where Wizards and Witches gathered with their wands pointed upwards at the sky, laid a man whom all grieved deeply. Little lights like stars, a bright lumos from every tip to let a soul pass on, to the life that laid beyond the current. A boy, green eyes filled with tears, kneeled by the man's side. More stars, this time on his cheeks sliding down upon another, drifting off into that which most called the unknown._

 

_Draco_

 

_A golden wand he didn't recognize as his own anymore was pointed in Dumbledore's direction. A pale hand with bony fingers holding on to it and trembling as if every gust of wind had the power of a thestral. 'I wish there was another way,' Dumbledore admitted, and Draco couldn't help but cry. He wasn't able to contain his grief any longer; his sadness for having to let a man pass to the other side whom he adored so much. He remembered the time they had spent together in that secret room at Beauxbatons; Dumbledore knitting socks in the evening by the fire-place, not worried at all that they might be discovered by the Ministry or Draco's father. His laugh, when hearing one of Draco's silly French jokes._

_Yet the man didn't seem frightened at all, already appeared as if ready to die — not even that far away from the afterlife without having a wand pointed at him. It confused Draco, of course, but there was no time to be confused. He took a step forward, tried to make himself do it even though there was nothing else he wanted to do less — but the words just didn't want to roll off his tongue._

_And then, the voice of a professor whom Draco knew was called Severus Snape. Walking in with his black robes flaring, an expressionless look upon his face. He didn't draw his wand, only greeted the headmaster like he always did _— like friends, like colleagues_. But Draco had seen something; he had seen Dumbledore sigh very softly — as if out of relief._

_Snape drew his wand at last, confused Draco even more, and casted the curse Draco himself was supposed to say._ Avada Kedavra _. In shock, Draco didn't know what else to do then to run towards the old man, try to save him from damage that had already been done. The headmaster fell down, over the balustrade of the tower and down into the darkness of the night. Swallowed by it._

_Draco didn't get a lot of time to look, to see where that darkness was taking the headmaster, as he heard another voice shout a spell he had never heard before — followed by a stinging feeling all over his body. He turned around, grabbed for his stomach as it felt as if someone had stabbed a knife into it. It was suddenly hard to breath, especially when he looked up and saw those shiny green eyes of Harry stare back at him in the most terrified way. He reached out towards that same boy, his hands covered in blood coming from scars he couldn't feel quite yet. And just when he thought he was going to be greeted by that same darkness that had swallowed Dumbledore, Harry's hand pulled him back, into his arms and onto the floor._

_And there he laid, staring at Harry whom became more of a haze by the second. 'H-Harry', Draco stammered. 'I'm not feeling so well.' A nauseous feeling and that of a pain he had never felt before overcame him, made him cry out loud in a terrifying way. Was that even his own voice he heard?_

_He could feel the color drain out of his face, his body — blood covering everything and everyone. Was he getting ripped apart by a curse? What curse had it been? Who had casted it? Did Harry cast it? Snape's face appeared above him, even more blurry than Harry's and a whispering of spells followed — healing spells, if Draco was correct._

_His mind slowly started to malfunction, and he suddenly couldn't think straight anymore. Where was he again? What had happened? Who were these people around him and why were they whispering evil-sounding Latin words? Closing his eyes, Draco felt himself drift away into a terrible, terrible nightmare._

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_Harry_

 

'He has Draco,' Harry stammered. 'He has taken him away from me. He's not safe anymore. What — What if he's dead? Did I kill him?' He looked up into his friends' eyes. They looked exhausted after dragging Harry away from Dumbledore's corpse — after Harry had cried next to it for what had seemed like hours. Their own eyes were red and swollen as well, for they had shed tears of their own for the Headmaster they had adored just as much.

'I — I don't know, Harry,' Hermione answered, her voice making it clear she was still in terrible pain. 'Snape invented the spell so he'll probably know how to set things right again. He'll know best, Harry. We must trust him.'

But Harry shook his head. _No_ , he had casted a terrible spell at Draco and now he was going to die. It had to be that way; why else would Snape take him away? Why wouldn't he leave Draco in the safe hands of Harry instead? Why would he take him back to that horrendous monster where the boy, if he was still alive, would die anyway? Harry started crying again, thick drops of tears running down his cheeks and making his shirt all wet again. He slowly rocked his body like a baby with his eyes closed, trying to ignore the worrying words of his friends around him.

And it stayed that way for days. Harry wasn’t able to stop crying — not until the morning after. His eyes as red as they could get and no more tears left inside his body. They were swollen, and it felt like he was squinting the entire time. His hands kept on trembling as well, and he didn't even dare to touch his wand anymore — a wand that had caused his lover to be in so much pain.

 _Worry_ , was the most terrible thing to overcome the boy out of all. He worried about Draco every second of the day; wondered what was happening to him and of course, wether he had survived the damage he had done. What would Voldemort do once he knew Draco hadn't completed the task he had been assigned to? Would he be mad? Or would he forgive him as he hadn't even been a decent member of the Death Eaters in the first place? Harry had no clue, and therefore worried even more.

However, life went on, and Dumbledore had left Harry with a task that was more grand than he had ever expected it to be; he had to go on a horcrux-hunt in order to defeat Voldemort — to end the Wizarding World's misery. Of course he had explained this plan to Hermione and Ron as well as soon as he had felt strong enough; and his best friends had both insisted on coming alone. Neither of them would even think about letting Harry go by himself. They couldn't leave just yet, as they still had to plan things and Harry had to return to the Dursleys again wether he liked it or not  _—_ as if nothing had happened. He wasn't even entirely sure wether he'd be safe there at all, or if the Durseleys themselves would be safe in their own home.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

His final night at the Dursley's had arrived — their safety no longer guaranteed. It was dark in his room as there was no moon in the sky. Or at least, not that Harry noticed. Grey clouds were everywhere like thick smoke, no star coming through to shine its light. With the lamp on his nightstand turned on, Harry was looking at Draco's golden timepiece again. Time ticked away like a timepiece was supposed to do, but Harry wished dearly it would stop for just a few seconds and point in a complete absurd direction, like it had done so many times before. Noon, _number twelve_ , would specially be grand. His eyes automatically stared at his door at the thought, the door where Draco had appeared and taken Harry away to Grimmauld Place for the first time. _Will I ever see that grin on the French's face again_ , he thought to himself. Harry still didn't know wether Draco had survived the curse he had casted at him — wether he was safe in the hands of Snape or in those of whoever he had taken him to. It pained him to think about it again, and quickly Harry tucked the timepiece away.

He exchanged it for the medallion — as if that was any better to make his fastened heartbeat slow down again. The images of the lion and butterfly appeared inside, but something was different. The lion seemed sad and didn't roar at all while the butterfly was quiet — its wings frozen as if the magical photograph had become Muggle. Closing his eyes to make the terrible thoughts of Draco being dead fade away — pass by into a place called nothingness in his brain — Harry tucked the medallion back behind his shirt.

Tomorrow the Dursleys would leave to a safer place; a place guarded by Wizards — something they most definitely weren't that pleased about. But it was safe, and that was the most important thing to both Harry as his weird family. Harry himself would travel to the Burrow with the members of the Order later that same day; protecting him for must there be an attack or any trouble on the way. Of course, they hoped that wouldn't be the case — but one never knew.

After a night of endless worrying, Harry managed to get an hour of sleep before being awoken by the loud noise of furniture being moved around downstairs. Wiping the heavy sleep out of his eyes and slowly making his way down, he already spotted uncle Vernon bended over a cardboard box with his heavy figure — tucking away some family photographs. 'Do we almost have everything?' Aunt Petunia asked no-one in particular, looking around the near-empty living room. Dudley was seated on a cardboard box himself, staring at one of the walls with a blank look on his face.

'You — you need any help?' Harry asked, shyly entering the living room. The eyes of his three relatives immediately shot in his direction, frowned eyebrows following.

'We're nearly done so no, thank you,' uncle Vernon answered before lifting the cardboard box and piling it on top of another.

Harry could clearly see on their faces they weren't too pleased with the move, and that they found it his fault they had to move in the first place. 'It's for your own safety,' he explained, and it felt like he had already said that same sentence a million times the last few days.

'We know,' aunt Petunia answered with a sigh.

Around an hour later two Wizards Harry vaguely recognized appeared at the house, ushered the Dursleys to their car with their belongings in a trailer behind. Uncle Vernon had nearly gotten a heart-attack when they had shrunken a few of their furniture pieces — saying that they weren't planning on driving back-and-forth six times. With closed eyes and a face the color of a tomato, the Wizards had managed to get Mr. and Mrs. Dursley willingly into their car. Only Dudley was left, lingering next to the vehicle with a confused look upon his chubby face. As he was about to step into the car, he suddenly froze — glanced from his parents to Harry and back. 'Isn't Harry coming with us?' he asked, obviously still confused.

'No, he isn't,' uncle Vernon answered. 'And he certainly doesn't want to, do you?'

Harry shook his head, confusing Dudley even more. 'But — but he said we had to leave for safety. Will he be alright?' 

A grumble from uncle Vernon followed, but Dudley ignored his father and walked over to Harry — hesitantly reached out his hand for Harry to shake. 'I hope you'll be safe too, Harry,' he said, and Harry could see that he truly meant it. Was this the first time Dudley had said something nice to him? 

Answering his words with a little smile, Harry shook his hand. 'I'm sure we'll see each other again in the future,' he replied before watching Dudley hurry himself back to the car — uncle Vernon already pushing its horn in an impatient manner.

Lifting his hand to wave them off — Harry was suddenly left alone in the home he had never felt welcome in. All the rooms were empty; the living room where Arthur once had bursted through the fireplace — the dining room where he had made aunt Marge float away from like a giant balloon — the kitchen where he had cooked a lot of food for the Dursleys and had gotten non of it himself — the cupboard under the stairs where he had dreamt of a better future. The door greeted him like an old friend when he turned its handle; the small room now covered with spider-webs and a few toy soldiers laying deserted on one of the shelves.

A loud knock on the door and Harry was shook out of his thoughts. A few hours had passed and it was already late in the afternoon; the sky starting to turn darker by the second and the Dursleys their old home becoming more and more deserted. He had moved all his stuff to the living room and had been waiting on his trunk — the only decent piece in the room to sit on — with a book at hand which Draco had lent him in fourth year. It was entirely written in French and even though Harry still couldn't understand most of it — some things he could, and it warmed his heart in knowing it brought him closer to his beloved one.

Opening the door, the freckled face of Ron appeared behind it with a smile. Immediately arms got wrapped around each other and he was held in a tight embrace, before they got pushed aside to make room for the other members. Mad-Eye Moody marched to the living room as if he had visited the house many times before, the others following while looking around at the floral wallpapers. Harry spotted Fleur as well, but didn't get time to ask her wether she had heard anything from Draco; Mad-Eye seemed to be in quite the hurry. 'Potter!' Mad-Eye then shouted, even though Harry had struggled himself out of Ron's arms and was already standing next to the very man. 

'Yes?' he answered.

Looking to his left in slight surprise, he fixed his posture and turned himself towards Harry fully. 'You still have the trace on you as you're underaged for a few more days,' he explained, not willing to waste any time as he took out a flask with a damping liquid inside. 'Our plan is the following; we'll go in pairs and one of each will drink a Polyjuice potion to become the exact resemblance of you, Harry. This way they won't know whom is the real Harry and whom is the fake.'

Polyjuice potion? Were they seriously going to transfigure themselves into him? To keep _him_ safe? What about their own safety? Harry shook his head at the man's words. 'No, I won't allow anyone to do such a thing — it isn't safe.'

But as Mad-Eye rolled both his normal as his mad eye, Hermione already pulled a strand of hair from Harry's head and made it disappear into the flask. Giving her a glare with his eyes, he saw how she apologetically casted her own eyes away. 'Everyone — take a sip and put on these.' A huge pile of clothes were dumped on aunt Petunia's burgundy carpeted floor before the flask went around — slowly turning his friends into identical versions of himself.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They had been betrayed — someone had told Voldemort Harry was leaving _tonight_. Looking out the window of the Burrow's kitchen, Harry hoped to see the others arrive safely as well — or at least, a little less harmed than poor George whom had come stumbling in with half his ear blasted off. Ginny and Molly were taking care of him, holding a wet cloth against the boy's face and whispering soft words to him Harry couldn't hear over the beating of his heart. Where were Ron and Hermione? Were Bill and Fleur alright? And the others as well?

A flash of light followed and the tall grasses of the Weasley property moved violently as Ron and Tonks came stumbling out of them. More flashes of light cleared up the sky; made it appear as if lightning was striking down upon the Burrow. Harry ran outside with Lupin behind him and together they watched how everyone arrived one by one — except for Alastor Moody and Mundungus Fletcher.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

A wedding. Who on earth had decided it was the right time to have a wedding? Hadn't they just lost Mad-Eye and half of George's ear? As darkness had crept around the Burrow and everyone had started to snore, Harry had tip-toed down the stairs with his backpack at hand — ready to leave for he didn't want to endanger anyone else anymore. Yet he didn't get very far; already a few steps outside were enough for Ron to catch up with him and call his name. 'Harry, where are you going?' he asked.

Turning around to face his best friend, dressed in pajamas in a bright Cannons orange color, Harry was surprised to see him relaxed instead of anger himself. 'Leaving,' Harry answered. 'I don't want anyone to die for me anymore.'

A sneer from Ron followed as the boy crossed his arms. 'You think we're endangering ourselves for you? That Mad-Eye _died_ for you? We're doing this to defeat _him_ , Harry — to have a better future for all of us.'

'Yet why does it feel like I'm the cause of it all?' Harry replied, biting his teeth and unsure of how to feel.

'Because you're the Chosen One, _obviously_ ,' Ron told him. 'You're the only way of stopping him.' Harry couldn't help but agree; he was indeed the Chosen One and therefore felt like it was all his fault. Felt like all the burdens of the Wizarding World were his to carry — but was that truly the case? Was he truly alone in this? Dropping his backpack to the grasses underneath his feet, Harry took a deep breath. Maybe Ron was right. 'And were you really going to find those horcruxes all by yourself? Without me; maybe — but without Hermione… you wouldn't survive a day, would you?'

A little smile couldn't be suppressed and Harry looked up at his friend who laughed with him, picked up his backpack and placed an arm around his shoulders. 'You're right, Ron,' Harry admitted. 'And we have a wedding to celebrate first, don't be?'

A nod of ginger hair followed as they walked back inside, together as they were supposed to be all the time — together as friends fighting for the ones they loved. 

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Draco had once described the girls of Beauxbatons as blue violets; so elegantly like a flower and always dressed in silk and with their long hair waving behind them. The day before the wedding a violet alike came to him and tapped him on the shoulder. 'I want to show you something,' Fleur told him with a heavy French accent.

Tall grasses were surrounding them, the wind whispering unknown words in their ears. The Burrow could still be seen from where they stood, the roof of the structure rising above all. He had drifted off again; searched for a calm and quiet place amidst all the chaos of having the entire Order at the Weasleys' their house. Nodding to Fleur's words, he rose and followed the girl dressed in blue.

A small room he had never entered before; the walls painted a shade of lilac and a small bed pushed against a crooked window. Photographs of Fleur and Bill on the room's dresser — and one of Draco amidst them as well. Harry immediately hurried himself to that exact photograph; had to see it from up close as if it was Draco himself that was standing there. With his chin held up high as Draco usually did and dressed in Beauxbatons' uniform, he stood beside Fleur and her little sister with great pride. 'Do you have any photographs of him?' Fleur asked, joining Harry and glancing at the photo herself.

Harry shook his head. In their fourth year there had been a photo taken of them hugging in the Champions tent — but Dumbledore had made it vanish like smoke. A few had also been taken at the Yule Ball — but they probably were still at Hogwarts, stored in an old book to remember the memories of the Triwizard Tournament. 'We never thought of taking any,' he replied her. 'Can I—'

'Keep it?' she finished his sentence. ' _Non_ , but you can keep this one.' Opening the top drawer of the dresser, she took out the most beautiful jewelry case Harry had ever seen — or at least, the only one he had ever noticed. It was decorated with small seashells and inside a ballerina was spinning rounds while waving at Fleur in a graceful way. There were a few pieces of golden jewelry, but it was mostly filled with photographs that hadn't made it into a frame. She took them all out, quickly looked through them and then handed Harry one with a little grin on her face.

It was another photograph of Draco; one where he looked fiercely into the camera and then started laughing — as if someone had made a joke he for once in his lifetime found terribly funny. He still had his long hair, Harry could see, as a few long strands hung over his cheeks — the rest of it tucked away underneath a beret. 'When was this taken?'

'While we were at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament,' she explained. 'It was maybe a few weeks after we arrived. I had taken my camera with me to show the other students back at Beauxbatons what Hogwarts was like — and one day I spotted Draco in his little outfit and thought he looked really _mignon_ in it.' She opened another drawer and took out a large box, placed it on the bed to open it. Slowly walking over to her, Harry saw how she took out a gorgeous white dress — probably her wedding dress, by the looks of it. 'Guess who designed it,' she said with a bright smile.

'Did Draco—‘ Harry guessed, confusion himself as he touched the tule fabric and lace details of the dress.

Fleur nodded. 'He already drew its design when he was in his third year — I never knew why but I'm glad he did. _Maman_ and I made it, but it almost feels as if he did.'

'I wish he could be here — he probably would've wanted to,' Harry admitted with a sigh, letting go of Fleur's dress and staring back at the photograph.

'He's always here, Harry. In our heart,' she answered before closing the box again and tucking it away for the next day to come.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Bill and Fleur's wedding was more beautiful than Harry could've ever imagined. They had made tents appear beside the Burrow's tall structure and decorations in pale blues and bright violets were making everything feel so festive. A space was made for a dance-floor where Luna and her father were currently performing a strange dance, while others were seated around large round tables and discussing things with Wizards and Witches Harry had never seen before in his life — though, everyone seemed to know him, of course.

Still, there was something missing; Draco's presence. It was Fleur's wedding — the wedding of a girl Draco had looked up to for years and had befriended from day one at his French school. The fact that he couldn't be there literally broke everyone's heart; especially that of Harry and Fleur herself. In her little speech she did before attacking the dance-floor with her now-husband Bill, Fleur had talked about how Draco had designed the dress she was wearing and how it was inspired by the albino peacocks that walked around the Malfoy property. A lot of Order members had appeared nervous or had looked away at the mention of those peacocks. Had they perhaps visited the gloomy Malfoy Manor before?

Wandering through the tent now and listening to boring and tiring conversations, Harry finally got his chance to greet Luna and her father in a decent way. However the man was called, he already forgot the minute it had come out of his mouth. 'You must know, my boy, that the Quibbler will always be on your side to tell the truth to the Wizarding Community,' he assured Harry before Luna shooed her father's words away — told him it was _not done_ to talk about his magazine at a wedding. 'Perhaps not, yet I still want mister Potter to know.'

'You can call me Harry, sir,' he had replied the man — making him smile a little. 

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Chaos had broken loose once again, and it appeared as if only more chaos would follow in the days to come. Having just apparated away from the wedding, Harry was catching for breath as Hermione pulled both him and Ron along the streets of London. 'We must change,' she announced as she hurried them all into a little alleyway.

'I don't have any other clothes with me, Hermione,' Ron protested, and Harry agreed, even though all he could think of was how Draco's timepiece and that photograph of him were still in his backpack at the Burrow.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she held up a little bag, no larger than the one Harry remembered from fourth year — where small versions of dangerous dragons had blown smoke from. 'Earlier today I packed all of your stuff in here; I have everything with me which we had prepared to take along.'

Both Harry as Ron smiled brightly at Hermione's cleverness before getting fresh, casual clothes thrown in their arms and hurrying themselves out onto the busy street again. The adventure — the hunt — had finally begun. It was an unexpected start on an unexpected day, but it had started wether they liked it or not. They were maybe going to have to change location every week, perhaps every day to stay safe — but it was a mission that had to be done, that had to be completed in order for their loved ones to survive and live on.

But where were the horcruxes, and how could they possibly ever find them?

They had left busy London and exchanged it for the quietness with a creepy undertone of Grimmauld Place. Seated around the small table in the kitchen, they held their heads together as they discussed where the real locket of Salazar Slytherin could possibly be. Harry had discovered it had been a fake only days after Dumbledore's death; the message inside clear to any of its readers. _R.A.B., who in the Wizarding World even was that?_ And now, with their return to Grimmauld Place, Ron had been able to answer that question. R.A.B. was no other than Sirius his brother; Regulus Arcturus Black. And he, a former Death Eater, had declared to have destroyed the real locket all together. But had it really been destroyed?

As they discussed this topic, they suddenly heard the cabinet door to their right creak, followed by a pale hand with long fingers creeping out of it. A large eye stared at them, and along came the rest of Kreacher's figure. 'Of course!' Hermione then called out, launching herself in Kreacher's direction and making the house-elf blink a few times with his annoyed, large eyes. 'Kreacher, have you ever seen a locket like this before?' She held the fake locket in front of his eyes, watched how the elf's pupils followed its left-to-right swinging motion.

'That belongs to master Regulus,' he answered. 'Filthy mudblood stole it from master!'

With Ron now bolting up from his chair, ready to kick the elf in the gut — for calling Hermione such a terrible word — Kreacher already took a few steps backwards while protecting his tiny body with his thin arms. 'Don't call her that,' Harry added to it in a strict way. He knew Sirius had given Grimmauld Place to him, which meant he was Kreacher's master now and therefore the house-elf had to obey his words. Kreacher seemed to understand that fact as well, as he bowed his head slightly. 'Do you know where the real locket is? This one is a fake,' Hrry explained to him, and Kreacher looked up again.

'It was here,' the elf said, hiding himself partly behind the cabinet's door as if Ron would hit him if he said something wrong. 'He came in the night — took away all my masters their most priced possessions.'

Looking at Hermione and Ron, they both seemed to be equally confused as him, wondering who dared to come steal things that weren't even theirs to take? 'Who took those things away, Kreacher?' Harry asked, looking back at the elf with a demanding stare.

'Mun— Mundungus Fletcher,' he answered. Glancing back at his friends, he could see how Ron angrily bit his teeth. That very same man was the one to have fled during the night of the attack — the night Mad-Eye had died and his partner had fled like a coward. That very same man now had stolen things that belonged to the house of Black, and therefore to Harry. That very same man had taken away a horcrux without even realizing it.

'Find him,' Harry told Kreacher and watched how the house-elf diapparated; to where, he had no idea, but he hoped he would be able to find the thief.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Three days passed and Kreacher was still gone; no sign of him at all during the day nor night. It seemed as if his search for Mundungus Fletcher was more difficult than Harry had thought it would be. The man was probably hiding; trying to sell the precious and valuable items of the Black-family in dark alleys to dark Wizards and Witches. Though, it wasn't as if they had nothing else to do; they still had other horcruxes to find beside the locket. Therefore they were once again gathered around a table, this time the long dining table with some of Hermione's books spread open on top of it. They had discussed possible locations and possible objects, but nothing seemed quite right. As they once again discussed the possibility of visiting Wool's Orphanage — where Voldemort had grown up — they suddenly heard a loud bang in the kitchen followed by shouting and the noise of a struggle.

Entering the kitchen they arrived to a scene where Kreacher was wrapped around Mundungus Fletcher's leg and Dobby around his arm — the Wizard struggling to be freed and run off again. 'Let go, stupid elves!' the man shouted as he moved his legs and arms in a violent manner, which made him stumble to the ground.

All three of them drew their wands at the same time, pointed their tips at the fallen Wizard. 'Where's the locket?' Harry demanded, staring into the man's eyes whom seemed to be confused for a second.

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' he obviously lied.

Ron kicked him against his leg — _totally unnecessary_ — but it definitely paid off as he held up his hands in surrender. 'Alright, alright,' he mumbled. 'She saw me selling items in Knockturn Alley — if I hadn't given her the locket she would've k-killed me,' he stammered on.

'She?' Whom was this man talking about? Mundungus squeezed his eyes a bit as if to block all his surroundings by it — to make himself disappear and avoid the topic all together. Taking a step closer and nearly touching the man's face with the tip of his wand, Harry repeated the question. 'Who do you mean?'

Mundungus swallowed and took a deep breath. Hands were shaking as he wiped away a drop of sweat from his bald head. 'Lestrange,' he answered. 'Bellatrix Lestrange.'

Harry could feel his heart skip a beat at the woman's name. The memory of her calling out Sirius name after she had killed him coldly still made him angry and sad — still tore his soul apart every time he thought about her laugh. How she had nearly destroyed the Burrow, and how she was always on that monster his side. As he was lost in his thoughts and his friends as well, they all lowered their wands without realizing — and gave Mundungus the opportunity to disapparate.

It didn't matter though; they knew whom was in the possession of the locket they were looking for, and that was all they needed to know. Bellatrix would never leave Voldemort's side. She would always fight next to him as one of his most loyal followers, no matter what. This meant they simply had to find out where he was staying; if they knew this, they also knew where Bellatrix was. And Harry already had a vague idea where that could be. 'She probably knew it was a horcrux,' Hermione speculated, letting herself fall down on one of the kitchen' chairs. 'It suprised me she didn't kill Fletcher for stealing it.'

 

'She probably didn't get the chance,' Ron replied. 'As quick as that snake is in slithering away.'

Harry remained silent as he seated himself around the small table as well. Golden laid in the palm of his hand again as he stared at Draco's timepiece, taken out of his trouser's pocket. 'Do you think—,' Hermione started, but by the look on Harry's face she didn't even need to finish the sentence to know what he was thinking.

 

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_Draco_

 

A blurry view. A chandelier above his head slowly swinging from left to right. Was he awake, or still asleep? His body ached all over; his eyes glancing down at the pale white blanket in front of him. A hand, that of himself, slowly lifting the blanket to make a scenery of a chest and stomach covered in ugly scars appear — an abstract painting with paint splashes defining scars. The tiny butterfly scar he hated so much now looked like nothing compared to the damage that had been done to his pearl skin.

A cry; his own at the sight of it. Footsteps hurried themselves over to him and his mother's face came into view. A few streaks of messy blond and dark brown hair — dull grey eyes that reminded him of his own. 'My dear boy,' she whispered while cupping his face in the palm of her hand. 'You're alive.'

Had he ever been dead, then? Words that would have normally caused him to panic now made him exhausted; the few things he had taken in too much for him to handle. He had to close his eyes again, had to sleep and forget about everything that had happened.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Waking up again, Draco's first reaction was to reach out to his left, only to find an empty bed. The right side was the same; no Harry there nor anywhere in his room. His mind didn't know why it had hoped he would've been there at all — it was unlikely that the boy would be found at the Manor. His mother wasn't in his room either; had probably left to catch some sleep herself. A pale moonlight shone in through his window and with much difficulty, Draco sat himself up straight to crawl out of bed. He could feel the scars on his stomach and chest move and itch with every step he took, could feel how they were about to burst again and cover his pajamas with blood, but still he moved his feet.

Stumbling towards the door, he took ahold of the handle and tried to turn the knob around — yet it wouldn't open. He pulled, he turned, he pushed — _nothing_. After even trying a wandless _Alohomora_ , he gave up. He was locked inside like an animal in a cage, and a little voice in his head told him he wasn't going to be released from it any time soon.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Morning again, this time daylight shining in through the windows, bathing the dark room in warmer tones. Draco had always disliked this room because of how lonely and sad it felt. It was simply too large for a boy alone, and everything smelled old and of the past. Was it the palette of grey they had used? Or the portraits of ancestors he hadn't been allowed to move from his walls? Now he was forced to stay inside until someone would allow him to leave; a nightmare he once would've had now come true. The knob of his door turned, revealing his mother — with to Draco's surprise — his father by her side as well. Trying to stay calm to prevent his scars from hurting, Draco let out short breaths through his nose to suppress his anger at seeing the man. Since when had he returned from Azkaban? 'Draco,' he started while seating himself on the edge of the boy's bed. 'We are so extremely proud of you.'

Draco looked away; not wanting to see his father and his ' _proudness_ '. The only reason the man was proud was the fact that he had faced the headmaster — had unarmed him and nearly killed the very man. It was something Draco would never feel proud of. _Never_. ' _Je suis fatigué,'_ he replied the man, and the words said in French seemed to upset his father slightly.

'I know, my son. Yet, I still wanted to tell you how proud we are of you and—‘

 _'Tu as déjà dis ça,'_ Draco interrupted him _. 'Laisse-moi tranquille.'_

His words seemed to upset his father even more, especially because they were once again said in French — a language his father had never truly been able to speak nor understand. 'We are in England, Draco. You must stop talking in that daft language of yours.'

Raising his chin a little and returning his eyes to look at his father, Draco threw him a vile glare. 'I will use whatever language I want. You cannot tell me what to do.'

Triggered by his son's reply, Lucius rose from the bed and glanced at his wife, whom seemed helpless in what do or how to react. The man moved a over to Draco, leaned close and let a few strands of blond hair brush his face — taking Draco right back to that time his father had chased him down the maze at Beauxbatons; demanding him to come home. Well, now he was home once again. 'You are wrong about that, Draco. I _can_ and I _will_ tell you what do.'

Biting his teeth, Draco stared into the furious eyes of his father; their grey color like thunderstorms. 'Just leave me alone,' he scowled, before giving the man a weak push against his shoulder.

Lucius took ahold of Draco's wrist with a strong grip, the thunderstorms now really causing their damage. 'You will continue to obey the Dark Lord's orders, understood?'

Pulling his hand away with all the power he possessed, Draco crawled out of bed again. He could feel his scars move again and his father's angry eyes follow his every move, but he had to get out and get further away from him. It was simply impossible to be in the same room as the man right now. Standing on the opposite side of the wooden structure that was his bed, Draco crossed his thin arms and threw his father another scowling look. 'I will _never_ obey that monster again,' he answered before hurrying himself towards the door — sure that it would be unlocked now his parents were inside.

But he was slow, his so-called hurrying nothing more than tiny baby steps. The burning of his scars were slowing him down. It took only a second for his father to stop him from nearing the door, from nearing freedom, a hand pressed against his chest. 'Draco, you are acting like a child.'

'Because I still am a child!' Draco replied, shouted in his father's face as he pushed the man's hand away. 'So let me still be one! Protect me like a real father would do!'

Lucius was now the one to bite his teeth out of anger, and to hit his son right in the face — a hard slap that made the boy stumble backwards and fall to the floor. Draco could feel a painful feeling spread over his stomach, could feel his scars suddenly hurt more than before. He swore that he could hear them rip as he laid there — his pajamas slowly coloring themselves crimson. Looking up at his father again, he was met with disappointment readable on the man's face instead of worry for his hurt son. 'I have been protecting you all along, Draco. You and you mother. Why can't you simply see that this is the only way for me to do so? That obeying the Lord is the only way for me to protect this family?'

'There is always another way,' Draco bit back, his voice exhausted as he fought the pain from his scars, his cheek burning brightly by the mark his father's palm had left behind.

Slowly, Lucius shook his head. 'You are indeed still a child, I see,' was all he had left to say, before turning around and leaving Draco's room. 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Barely being able to stand because of the terrible pain all over his chest, stomach and back — Draco somehow managed to get out of bed again. How in the world had he been able to bolt upright when going in against his father's words earlier this month? Or when he had tried to open the door? It seemed as if he had become even more wounded since then, and that his sudden lust to fight had weakened.

Already a month had passed since he had awoken from his sleep, with wounds larger than he had ever seen. Two months had passed since he had last seen Harry. And who knew how many more would follow until he would be met with freedom again.

Dark robes he once had worn to a funeral were hung to his wardrobe; his mother had probably placed them there for him to wear. Exchanging his pajamas of silk for the darkness of the robes, Draco felt even more like just giving up all together. Knowing that his hair was probably the most chaotic mess it had ever been, he still didn't even glance into the mirror to fix it; he was simple too tired and couldn't care any less. His mother was waiting just outside his door, dressed in black robes herself and her hair partly tied to keep the strands out of her face. Draco could hear his father saunter through the hallway as well, further down and looking like a complete mess himself. His once _shining-like-silk_ hair had become chaotic, his face looked ill and dark circles graced his eyes. Lucius Malfoy simply wasn't the man Draco once used to know, but whom would stay the same when there was an evil monster living in their home?

His mother reached out a hand, and even though Draco would've liked nothing more than to push it away, he needed the support. Holding on to her while taking the tiniest steps, he could feel the scars move all over his body; ready to rip again. It hurt as badly as thousands of knives stabbing through one's figure — their blades burning with the flames of hell. Draco bit his teeth, unwilling to let any of that pain be noticeable on his face. Narcissa let her fingers slide through her son's hair to fix it a little, after they had managed to cross the hallway and walk down the stairs. Sad eyes, ones from a woman whom had nearly given up.

Soon enough they were greeted with the voice of Death Eaters, of whom Draco didn't even know their names, as they neared the drawing room; accepting the invitation of joining _him_ and his followers while making their future, macabre plans. 'Ah, Draco,' a voice then said, one he recognized most of all. 'I am glad to see you have healed well.'

Draco bit his teeth as he shuffled into the drawing room, still holding on to his mother and trying to avoid eye-contact with Voldemort's red eyes. Instead, his eyes wandered off towards the floating figure of a middle-aged woman — her mouth opened wide and her eyes set as if cursed. He had to blink a few times to concentrate himself without freaking out, panicking that there could be a similar destiny awaiting him. A snake passed by his feet, a large creature that made him startle from the inside. The grip around his mother's arm tightened, and he could feel how she squeezed back in an assuring way. Narcissa guided him towards the chair next to a woman Draco knew as Bellatrix Lestrange. The same woman whom had murdered Harry's god-father Sirius Black and had nearly destroyed the Burrow. Anger rose to Draco's head, like a potion brewing fervently, but was quickly suppressed by his fear — the fear of her dark eyes staring at him in a mocking way. As he sat down, Draco couldn't help but notice that Castor Idel, whom he knew as a Death Eater as well, wasn't there; the blond Slytherin nowhere to be seen and no vacant spot left for him at the table.

'Are you looking for Castor, Draco?' Voldemort asked him in a whispering tone. Draco couldn't help but respond with a slight nod, his curiosity too grand. 'I have been told that he hadn't been very honest with us — am I right, Severus?'

Draco's head turned towards professor Severus Snape, seated next to his father with his eyes focused on the table. He had heard the Order talk about him being on the good side — only pretending to still be a Death Eater to help the Order. Yet, Draco found it difficult to believe the man's true identity after murdering headmaster Dumbledore. 'Mister Idel had indeed kept something from you, my Lord,' he stated. 'He had forgotten to inform you about the help that Draco had provided him with. Help with the Vanishing Cabinet which was supposed to be his task _alone_.'

Voldemort slowly nodded his head as he entwined his long fingers, his fingernails sticking out and making a shiver run down Draco's spine. 'With that information now provided to me, I have decided Castor will no longer be joining our side — at least, not directly,' he explained. Draco wanted to ask what that meant; wether the boy was dead or not — locked away somewhere. A silence fell, however, and the topic seemed to be closed. 'Even though you have helped someone else with completing his task, you haven't quite completed your own,' he then stated.

'Forgive him, my lord — my son is still young and weak,' his father started, turning himself to Voldemort with a begging expression on his face. 

Voldemort raised his hand to stop Lucius' words. 'I believe Draco is not weak at all, Lucius. Just a little… _sentimental_.' A weird gleam was visible in Voldemort's eyes, one Draco caught as dared to glance at the monster. 'There is a way, however, in which he can right his wrongs.' Voldemort rose from his seat at the head of the table, slowly sauntered behind everyone's chair before coming to a halt by Draco's. A pale, near-blue hand reached itself out forwards— placing a locket the color of the death-spell on the surface in front of Draco's eyes. 'This, my boy, you will protect with your life.'

Draco couldn't help but swallow as he looked at the strange object, at its silver engravings. Whispers, as if a snake was singing strange melodies. _Parseltongue_. Hesitantly, Draco took the locket in his hands and immediately felt how dark magic started running through his veins — entered his blood to mess with it. He ignored it with a straight face, as if he hadn't felt anything at all, as he could still feel the dark presence of Voldemort behind his back. With trembling hands and shaking fingers, he hung the locket around his neck — it's heavy weight falling down next to the small medallion he shared with Harry.

The corners of his eyes went pitch black as ravens — the room spinning around and the little appetite for food he had felt earlier now completely gone. Instead, he felt enraged. Jealous. Vengeful. He suddenly couldn't remember the last time he'd been happy anymore. A sick feeling, his scars hurting terribly. Though he had never experienced it the before, it felt as if a Dementor was sucking out his soul — was giving him the kiss of Death.

Draco had to grab ahold of the table and close his eyes for a second, try to focus as the dark magic of the locket was slowly spreading itself through his soul. He wanted to take it off, throw it away and ignore the obeying words of Voldemort, but he knew he had no choice if he wanted to survive.

Slowly feeling better again, he opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Voldemort had seated himself down again and had his red eyes still fixed on Draco — just like all the other Death Eaters. It seemed as if they were awaiting something, but by the look in their eyes their hunger hadn't been fed. 'May I ask, my Lord, how you have come in the possession of Salazar's locket?' A man asked, of whom Draco didn't know the name. 'I thought it had been stolen from you?'

Voldemort slowly nodded his head. 'Indeed, but it has recently been returned to me.' His eyes quickly wandered off in Bellatrix her direction. Draco followed his eyes to see a satisfied and a look of pride gracing Bellatrix' face. Was she perhaps the one to have returned it to him? 'And I am not planning on ever having it stolen again. Therefore it must be guarded, protected by someone's life.'

'Draco isn't even one of your most loyal followers, my Lord. He doesn't have to Mark. He doesn't have the ability nor responsibility to protect such an important item of you, my Lord,' Bellatrix's screeching voice then announced, her pitch black eyes set angry and staring back at Draco with pure hate. 'Let me protect the locket, my Lord.' Her eyes were spitting fire and Draco felt like fading away, but the locket around his neck whispered to him that he wasn’t scared — that she could stare at him like that as much as she wanted, but that he wouldn't even budge. The presence of his wand in his robes' pocket was also more noticeable than ever — more heavy as it seemed to wait until a spell could be casted at whomever would insult him.

Eyes nearly spat fire as Voldemort directed his glance at Bellatrix again. 'Do you doubt my decisions, Bellatrix?' The witch shook her head, her expression of anger turning to one of fear. 'He does not have to wear the Mark to succeed in this task. I do not want _any_ other magic to interfere with the locket. I have chosen him for this task, and that's that,' Voldemort continued, and thereby finished another topic all together. 'Now, let's discuss something that truly matters... _the boy_.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

 _Anger. Hate. Nightmares._ The locket around his neck seemed to whisper terrible dreams into his ears — making him wake at least three times a night with drops of sweat running down his face. He couldn't take the locket off. _I can't, he'll murder me and my parents if I ever do._ It also seemed as if every thought of Harry was slowly fading away — the little details he always remembered so well suddenly gone and lost. The few memories he had left played in his head with the narrative voice of the Dark Lord; whispering words that only meant bad things — said bad things about Harry and how he was using Draco, had always used him for everything. He had used him for the Triwizard Tournament — used him to get away from his Muggle-family — to battle against the Dark Lord at the Ministry.

It had been easy for Draco to ignore that voice the first week, maybe the first two weeks — but it was becoming harder and harder by the day. As he looked at himself in the mirror a few weeks later, he almost didn't recognize himself anymore. Circles darker than he had ever seen, as dark as clouds in a star-less sky, were painted around his eyes and seemed to darken the veins in his cheeks as well. His dull grey eyes seemed way more vivid and alive; shining a weird gleam which made him look possessed and psychopathic. They were a darker grey; mimicking the inside of his new soul. He also didn't feel like eating anything at all; only ate a little in the evening when his mother forced him to — the locket slowly eating him from the inside out. The scars on his chest, stomach and back were still healing as well, the wounds fresh and burning from time the time. When he took baths he often swore he could see the red flesh move as if a dark curse was still very much alive underneath them.

Not to mention he would get disturbed by at least one Death Eater a day — bursting into his room and demanding to be his puppet to test a violent charm on. The amount of times Draco had felt the pain of the Curciatus Curse were becoming countless, and it not only seemed to upset his own soul, but that of the locket as well. He had been mind-blown and shocked when after a month of torture, he himself had fired the very same curse back at a Death-Eather; his golden wand pointing at the man as he crawled over his bedroom floor, begging for mercy. Draco had heard his wand crack under his fingers, parts of the gold shredding off as if the wand itself couldn't handle such a dark spell. It had made Draco realize what he had been doing — had made him realize that he had been _smiling_ all along.

The locket was pure evil, he then knew — but it was already too late as there was no way it would allow him to take it off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Finally, right?! I've just been super busy lately, but I'll try to upload another chapter a little sooner next time! ;)
> 
> So, I decided to give the story a little twist and give the locket to Draco as it will completely change his behavior. I also just wanted to change the story a little more so it wouldn't be too much like the real one. The weddings parts and such are short but I found them necessary to keep up with the story and remember everything that was going on.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)


	9. Le possédé

 

**_C H A P T E R 1 9_ **

_Harry_

Harry had always wanted to visit Malfoy Manor, wanted to know what the place Draco called his home was like. At least; one of his homes. Harry knew his true home was that in France — the cottage on the countryside with a beautiful sea not too far away. A place where the French could relax on a sandy beach, a beautiful horizon throwing orange light upon his pale face. Yet he knew Draco had spent most of his life at the manor. A dark place, he had told him, where a winter's cold seemed to haunt the corridors even during the warmest of summer days. Harry simply couldn't see the two together — and now that he had to go there soon enough himself, he didn't feel that excited anymore either.

They had started to make plans almost immediately after finding the whereabouts of the locket — at least, the person it was with. Of course there was no certainty of Bellatrix and Voldemort being at the manor, or the locket itself all-together, though the three of them knew there was no way around visiting the place anyway. They didn't have any other leads for the remaining horcruxes, and therefore it seemed the best to go with their gut-instinct.

Empty beds greeted the young wizard — a few rays of daylight shining in through the creek of the closed curtains. A portrait of an angry Wizard was still turned around with its face towards the wall. Harry sat in the room he had shared with Draco before; where they had whispered stories and listened to Tonks' loud snoring for hours on end. It felt extremely empty now without the French being there. _No grins. No round suitcase. No Draco._  Two months had passed since they had arrived at Grimmauld Place, a poster now on every wall in the magical world declaring Harry James Potter as _Unwanted Number One_. It had been strange to see his own face, his own pair of eyes, his mess of a hair everywhere they secretly went.

 _Lies_ , spread around by a Ministry that wasn't in the hands of the good anymore. They had realized that soon enough, as they had read the Daily Prophet and seen its cover with a smiling Dolores Umbridge depicted on it. Hermione quickly speculated that Voldemort was behind this sudden new election. Even though Umbridge had seemed so highly against him, they were all convinced they would match perfectly evil-wise. The cruel woman was in charge of interrogating Muggle-borns and Half-Bloods now — of which most ended up without a wand or in Azkaban if they really were a disappointing matter in the eyes of the pink toad.

It had started to rain. Drops made loud noises against the windows, on the roof, surrounding Harry with a drowning sadness. The sound the drops made against the glass reminded him a bit of Hedwig whenever she would bring a letter to his window at the Dursley's. Draco's letters mostly. She had passed away during the attack in the night sky — catching a Death Curse that had been meant for her owner. Feeling forever grateful for her loyalty and sacrifice, Harry still thought about her daily and wished her the best afterlife an owl could possibly ask for.

Descending the stairs with his eyes wandering off to the display of beheaded House-Elves, Harry could hear Hermione and Ron exchange words in a whispering tone in the living room. He waited in the hallway for a few seconds, held his ear by the door as he listened to the worry in their voices as they once again discussed the whereabouts of other horcruxes — and how disappointed they were for nothing having found any yet. His friends grew quiet as he entered the room, their eyes looking up and quickly down again. 'Did you sleep well?' Hermione asked, the same question she repeated every morning since their arrival at the place.

A nod followed, even though Harry hadn't slept well at all. Every night he had nightmares about either Voldemort or Draco; the monster murdering his friends, or Draco being hurt or dead. He would often catch glimpses of Dumbledore as well, stumbling down the Astronomy Tower and getting swallowed by the darkness of the night. 'Did you?' he asked in return — yet another one that got repeated daily.

Hermione nodded, but dark circles around her eyes and chapped lips were saying otherwise. Ron seemed to be the only one to sleep alright in the house, but he always had been one to sleep quite fast and easily no matter when or where. Often Harry could hear his friend snore all the way to his room, waking him up from his nightmares.

The trio fell silent. Non of them knew what to say. Maybe Ron and Hermione did, but whatever they had to discuss with each other didn't seem to be meant for Harry's ears. The veil of silence covered the old sofas, bookcases and brought with it the insufferable scent of mold. The ticking of rain against glass could still be heard, as well as muffled sounds from an angry portrait in the hall. As Harry was about to drift off to the kitchen, to find something to eat, Hermione sighed deeply and opened her mouth again. 'I believe it's time we choose a date to visit the Manor, Harry,' she said. 'We've waited long enough — nothing will change.'

They had avoided pinpointing the exact date for a while, even though they knew the locket was probably there. Still, they had hoped it to be somewhere else — somewhere more easy and further away from the monster directly. Harry's greens found Hermione's worried yet confident browns. She meant it. 'You're right,' Harry admitted. 'When would you like to go?'

As if caught by surprise, Hermione glanced at Ron for a quick second before turning herself to Harry again. 'Tomorrow,' she replied.

'Tomorrow?' Looking at her as if she had said something completely mad — which she kind of had— he got a nod of her head in return. 'Don't we have to plan things first?'

A sigh followed. 'Why make plans when we have no idea whom will be there, or what the Manor even looks like,' she explained. 'I've searched for information about the Manor in every book I could find, but it seems to be a very private property guarded by ancient spells I simply know nothing about.'

Was there really nothing to be found about that place? Wasn't the Malfoy-line one of the most prestige Pureblood ones in history? Surely there would be _someone_ to have written a book about it? Already reading Harry's mind, Hermione shook her head a few times. 'I agree with her, Harry,' Ron then said. 'If Hermione says there can't be a plan, then I wouldn't suggest to make one either.'

Not really being able to deny that fact, Harry sighed. 'Alright then — we'll go tomorrow. You have the location of a forest nearby, right?'

'I do, but — I think it will be easier to apparate to the town of Wiltshire itself. I've been there with my family once and I remember that place's square far better than I do with the forest we hiked through,' Hermione admitted.

'Then let's apparate to the square,' Harry concluded. 'We'll walk to the Manor from there; I'm sure we'll be able to find it.'

A weird smile appeared on Hermione's face as she tried to convince herself that everything would be alright. Ron seemed to be fine with it all, was already focussing his mind on something else — Quidditch probably, if Harry could guess, as he was the only Wizard to think about such futilities amidst the serious. Hunger no longer occupied his mind, so Harry's feet dragged himself back into the hallway — back up the stairs and into the empty room to be alone again. As he sat down, it suddenly hit him that they were going to Draco's home the day after — and that there was a chance the blond boy would be there as well.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Orange light from the sun slowly fading away, exchanging itself for the colder gleams of the moon. Evening had arrived and therefore the right time to apparate away to the town of Wiltshire. Remaining on his bed for a few seconds longer, Harry stared at the photograph of Draco he had gotten from Fleur. The blond laughed out loud again, his smile as bright as Harry remembered it to be. He looked genuinely happy, and Harry wondered wether he would see Draco ever that happy again — if the boy was still alive, of course. Harry's stomach turned around at the thought. He had tried to keep it from his head, but the worry of having killed the boy filled his insides with guilt and nausea. _Don't you dare to think that ever again_ , he told himself for the millionth time, _he is still alive._

With the photograph safely tucked away, Harry went downstairs to find his friends lingering around the front door. They looked nervous, and Harry couldn't help but feel the same emotion creep over his entire body and run through his veins. 'Ready?' he asked, and his friends nodded as they took each other by the hand — Hermione apparating them away to a place neither Harry nor Ron had ever been before.

Wiltshire was more rustic than Harry had imagined. Houses of stone, lined up next to streets of pebbles hundreds of years old. A tree here, a tree there and no-one to be seen as far as their eyes could reach. They also hadn't landed on the square Hermione had told them about, rather on a bridge made of stone with a river running underneath their figures. Just as she was about to explain why they had landed there instead, the most awful alarm went off and made them cover their ears — as if ravens had suddenly become upset and were crying their ugliest cries.

Loud shouting followed quickly after, and men dressed in dark robes and faces painted the color of blood came running down the street — over the old pebbles and with their wands pointing in the trio their direction. 'Run!' yelled Ron, as he was the first one to spot them. Without hesitation, Hermione and Harry followed their ginger friend over the rest of the bridge, into a forest that laid on its other end. Harry had no time to look over his shoulder to see if the men were still there, but their shouting and hexing of spells told him already enough. 'They're Snatchers!' Ron shouted. 

They had read about the Snatchers in the Prophet; they were Ministry-employed Wizards that would roam the streets of towns at night, in search of Mudbloods and people on the run. It had been foolish of them to come to Wiltshire at night — they had totally forgotten about the Snatchers altogether when making the decision earlier. Now basically running their legs off with the Snatchers on their heels, Harry also couldn't help but find it even more foolish to have apparated to a well-know Wizarding village. Of course there was some kind of alarm installed to warn them once someone apparated there. How stupid could they be? Even though Hermione was running somewhere behind him, he could still hear her swear out loud at having the same thoughts as Harry — at feeling for once as dimwitted as the two boys in front of her.

As they neared a small hill, Ron got hit by a hex, making him slow down a bit. It was a harmless spell that was only meant to stop him, _thank goodness,_ but it slowed all of them down as Harry and Hermione were worried for what had happened to their friend. It felt like they were losing more and more with every further step they took. Glancing over his shoulder at Hermione, Harry spotted a Snatcher only a few feet away from her. Noticing this as well, Hermione raised her wand and casted a spell — one that wasn't meant for the Snatcher on her heels, but for Harry in front of her. Red shot in his direction, blinding him for a single second before hitting his face and making him fall down by its impact. Imaginary bugs crawled underneath his flesh, made him grab his face with both hands. He heard how his friends fell to the ground shortly after as  — or got _pushed_ _down_ by the Snatchers, most likely. A Snatcher of his own pushed him down further into the grass as well, and a few branches of the wood's grounds stabbed him in the cheek.

As Harry's vision slowly returned, the dark spots of a blinding spell slowly fading away, he looked up into the face of a man whose skin was covered in a striped pattern of blood. He was circling around his prey, glancing from one to the other. 'So… who do we have here?'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Harry wasn't sure wether Hermione's charm would hold up, but he had to have faith in his best friend's skills. He didn't know what he looked like, but it apparently worked well enough as the Snatchers didn't recognize him as Harry Potter anymore — or at least, not _entirely_. They did however have a suspicion about Hermione and Ron, and a faint mark on his forehead that could be seen as a scar.

They had swarmed together, their hands clamped around their prisoner's clothes and had apparated away, now landing upon a driveway with tall hedges on each side. Harry had fallen to the ground, and as he got pulled up to his feet again, he noticed a peacock as white as snow cross the sandy road of the narrow way — hurrying away from the nearing evil. A few lights on the side were supposed to light up their way, but they had been extinguished as if to hide away everything that was to follow. Harry got dragged further, his friends behind him getting dragged along as well by the tall figures dressed in black. The Snatcher's grip around the collar of his jumper was tight, and it felt suffocating as the woolen fabric scratched his neck with every step he took.

Wrought-iron gates as high as a house doomed up at the end of the road, a gigantic Manor laying behind. A few windows were lit by a warm light, but the overall feel of the house was cold and dark — as if the devil himself lived there and didn't want to get noticed at all. The Snatcher by Harry's side placed his free hand upon the iron and immediately a sort of alarm went off; startling a few crows at its sound. Only a few seconds later a blond man stormed in their direction, long locks bouncing upon his shoulders with every hurried step he took. Harry immediately recognized him, and that recognition made his heart skip a beat or two; Lucius Malfoy was standing on the other side of the gate. And if that was Lucius Malfoy, then it meant they were at Malfoy Manor — the place where they had planned on going in the first place.

Alright, it wasn't really the way they had expected it to go — and they were still in capture of the Snatchers their claws — but they were there. And maybe Draco was there as well. _I should've known,_ he then realized. _I should've known when seeing that albino peacock cross the road._

'What do you want?' Lucius Malfoy spat at the man beside Harry.

A vile look of the Snatcher followed. 'We wish to speak to Lord Voldemort,' he said, and Lucius let out a snort.

'Do you really believe I will summon the Dark Lord for nothing, you—'

'Not just for nothing, Malfoy. I believe this fellow here is Harry Potter!' Harry got pushed against the gate, his face meeting the cold iron and sending shivers down his spine. The grip around his collar tightened as Lucius Malfoy's eyes stared in his. A feeling of stupidity then overcame him once again, for the second time that night, as he suddenly realized how wrong he had been; the man looked _nothing_ like Draco at all. He looked pathetic and miserable, all the things Harry knew Draco never was or ever would be. 

Lucius Malfoy took a glance at Harry's face, but already seemed to be convinced by the Snatcher's words. He opened the gate for them to enter and walked back to his manor, a cane shaped in that of a snake in one hand and the other nervously clenched around the seam of his robes. Why would one be nervous at his own home?

The manor from up close looked a bit scary with its gothic architecture and excessive use of black. On the giant entry doors there were silver snakes depicted with their heads cut-off and it made Harry swallow — as long as that wouldn't be his fate nor that of his friends. He thought about Draco growing up in a place like this; such a wonderful boy in such a depressing house.

He got dragged over a fern green carpet that ran through the entire entryway, and was pushed to the floor in a large room, a chandelier shining above his head and a fireplace burning bright. He hit the black tiled floor and tasted blood, the taste of iron spreading fast. Hermione and Ron soon followed by his side, and before he even had a chance to get up, Bellatrix Lestrange pulled him by his collar herself. Her long nails pinched the flesh of the back of his neck, a wand pressed against his throat. Harry could see the chandelier above their heads reflect in her pitch black eyes — eyes of the insane.

'So this is supposed to be Harry Potter?' she asked, her voice like sandpaper. She pushed his hair out of his deformed face. 'I don't see a scar, do you?' She looked over at Lucius whom didn't react to her words at all, glanced at a pale woman behind him instead. The woman had platinum blonde hair just like him, mixed with some strands of black, and wore intricate dark robes. Her beauty was hidden beneath a face of misery, her hands folded together in a nervous manner. 'Get Draco,' Bellatrix then shouted, demanded, and pushed Harry back onto the floor.

 _Draco is here,_ was the first thing Harry could think. _Draco is alive_. He glanced over at Hermione and Ron, whom returned his look with worry. They both seemed to know just like Harry did that Draco would recognize him in an instant; deformed or not. Yet Harry couldn't help but feel a certain warmth fill his insides — a dark cloud was slowly drifting away at the knowledge of life.

The blonde woman, whom was probably Draco's mother, had left the room and returned a few minutes later with Draco by her side — but Harry had to look twice as he almost didn't recognize the boy. His throat suddenly felt dry as Draco was shoved in his direction by his father, then pushed down to his knees by Bellatrix's hand to face Harry on an eye level.

'Draco, love… is this Harry Potter?' she asked.

Tears, they welled up in his eyes at the sight of what they had done to his beloved butterfly. Dark circles and red veins covered the boy's eyes and judging by the blue and red upon his cheek, Harry knew someone had recently hit him. A faint pink scar ran from Draco's chin to his left ear, one that Harry knew could be caused by the Cruciatus Curse;,and the thought of Draco screaming of pain made him tremble. And most of all, the boy seemed to be exhausted; tired to the bone and ready to fall down into the arms of Death any second. 

'I—' Draco started, eyes still in Harry's. 'I can't be sure.' The boy blinked, and a tear escaped his eye — but he didn't even seem to notice anymore. There was also a strange look in Draco's eyes which Harry had never seen before, and it made a shiver run down his spine. The blond's face seemed blank, expressionless and emotionless — yet that single tear showed there was something going on in Draco's very soul at the same time. 

'Come on, Draco! It's either him or it's not! It can't be something in between!' Bellatrix started to become irritated and gave Draco a push against his shoulder.

It seemed as if Draco didn't feel the push either, and his eyes kept focussing themselves on Harry's greens — almost in an obsessive manner. Harry stared back, noticing that Draco's grey eyes weren't the same as they used to be; they appeared darker. It confused him. How could one's eye color change? He wanted to ask wether he was alright, what was going on — but Harry had to keep his mouth shut, or he would risk betraying himself and his friends.

'Draco, dear.' The blonde woman, Draco's mother, took a hesitant step forward. Harry remembered her name to be that of a flower. _Narcissa_. Narcissa seemed cautious around Draco, around Bellatrix and even her husband. It almost felt as if she was a prisoner, too. 'Is it him?' She carefully placed a hand on her son's shoulder, her eyes not even daring to glance at the boy.

To Harry's surprise, Draco pushed his mother's hand away — a gesture Harry knew Draco would never use with his own mother. He had always talked of her with respect. Described her as a loving mother he would never hurt. No reaction followed to her words as Draco rose to his feet again, still kept his eyes locked in Harry's. Looking down upon him, he repeated his words. 'I can't be sure.' As his eyes finally wandered off, he turned around to face Bellatrix, whom seemed to have lost her patience. Her eyes grew wide of irritation, her hand got raised and slapped Draco against his cheek — the noise resounding through the large room like an echo in a well. 

 

Not being able the control himself, Harry moved a little, shouted a ' _no_ ' which had been laying on his tongue for already a while. He wanted to protect Draco; wanted to keep him safe and never see him hurt again. There wasn't any pain readable in the boy's eyes, however, and that fact confused Harry above all. Was there something strange going on that made the boy seem so emotionless? Was he under the Imperius Curse? Or was there another reason? But Harry had seen that single tear that had shown him that the real Draco he knew so well was still in there somewhere... _suffering_.

 

'So you know him?' Bellatrix reacted, wand placed underneath Harry's chin. 'Let's keep you a bit longer then, shall we? Let's see what that pretty face of you looks like after a few hours.' She glanced over her shoulder at Lucius Malfoy, indicating that he had to take Harry and his friends away.

A dungeon. The smell of mold, the dripping of a leak. Dust covered the once blue tiles a dirty grey and there wasn't a single light lit in the darkness of the cellar. But there was something that made their hearts flicker with hope; the voice of someone they knew. Luna Lovegood appeared out of the dark and as Ron lit up the single torch, her face smiled at them.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Footsteps. Someone was descending the few steps to the cellar. Ron quickly extinguished their light, and they all waited side by side with their eyes casted upon the bars of the iron gated door. A dark figure appeared behind it, stood stiffly on the other side of the gate. Squinting his eyes a little, Harry took a few steps closer and quickly found it was Draco. He called out his name, arms already opened wide to hug the French through the bars — but the blond boy himself took a step backwards. With frowned eyebrows, Harry looked up at Draco in confusion. 'Draco?'

Draco simply stared back with his darker eyes, his expression still set cold. A shiver ran down Harry's spine like it had done before, and was this time followed with a flip of his stomach. He felt nauseous, like throwing up. What was wrong with his beloved butterfly, he asked himself, the answer unknown. Hermione hesitantly joined him by his side, her eyes set curious as she took a decent look at Draco herself. Harry could feel her hand tap him on his arm before she slowly pointed towards a shining piece of jewelry around Draco's slender neck. A locket. 'What's — what's that around your neck, Draco?' she dared to ask.

Harry hadn't noticed it at first, all too caught up with the fact that Draco had survived his awful spell, was still standing there in front of him even though he looked quite different than Harry remembered him to be. Now, however, there was no denying that the large necklace stood out more than anything about the boy. Salazar's locket, the real one which they had been looking for, hung right in front of their eyes around Draco's neck. Without second guessing his actions, Harry reached out for it, but Draco took a step back in return — this time with a scowl on his face. 'Draco, do you know what that is?' Harry tried.

The boy squinted his eyes as he held a hand upon the locket in a protective manner, his head tilted slightly. 'It belongs to _him_ ,' he responded, his voice a bit off.

'We know that,' Harry told him before glancing at Hermione. She herself kept her eyes focussed on Draco as well, and Harry could read from her face that she saw something that wasn't right. Ron came closer too, he head their words about the locket at was now staring at it with large eyes. He lifted a finger to point, but Harry pushed it down again and squinted her eyes. 'It's evil, Draco. You have to take it off,' Harry continued, in the hope of convincing Draco.

The blond however didn't seem to react to Harry's words, only held on to the locket with dear life — the veins on his hand showing. 'You have to leave,' Draco then said, his voice a hoarse whisper and his face remaining cold.

'I know, Draco, but we're kind of locked in here, aren't we?' Harry replied with frown eyebrows. 'Or do you know a way out?'

Draco didn't seem to react to those words either, only kept his eyes staring in Harry's. 'You'll leave soon,' he concluded, before turning around — ready to leave.

'Wait!' Harry shouted behind him, maybe a little too loud as Hermione hushed him. 'What about you?'

Draco faced Harry again, his back as straight as a piece of wood. 'I'll follow,' he replied. 'Take this.' With those words said, a sharp object poked into Harry's stomach. As Harry looked down, he saw Draco's wand pointed at him with the handle first.

'Your wand? But — what will you do without one?'

Draco smiled weakly, the first smile Harry had seen on his face in months — but it didn't seem like one of his own at all. Hesitantly, Harry took Draco's wand from him and immediately noticed it didn't look the same as before; the blue sapphire was gone and most of the gold was shredded off the wood. Whatever had happened to it; it had been a lot — and Harry had a vague idea of its cause. He looked up into the Draco's eyes again; those dark eyes that made it look like his pupils were dilated constantly. The slightly creepy smile was still there, and even though it made Harry feel uncomfortable in some way — he couldn't help but feel _so_ glad to see him again.

The weird moment got disturbed by a loud sound, filling the cellar and announcing the appartion of someone. Harry quickly turned around, curious to see whom it was. His eyes found Dobby, standing amongst his friends with the brightest smile. 'I am here to take the friends of Harry Potter away,' he explained. 'Harry Potter's friends are Dobby's friends.' With his long fingers clenched around the pillowcase he still wore for clothes, combined with Hermione's colorful socks from what seemed like ages ago — Harry couldn't have been more glad to see the little elf again.

'Where are you taking us to, sir?' Luna then asked, taking a step closer to Dobby and bending a bit through her knees.

Dobby seemed flattered at being addressed with ' _sir_ ', and with a slight blush on his elf-cheeks, he answered her. 'Wherever it is safe to take Harry Potter's friends to.'

They all thought about a safe place for a second; everything from Grimmauld Place to the Burrow — but Ron was the one to make the final decision. 'Shell Cottage,' he suggested. 'That's the place where Bill and Fleur currently live. It's under the Fidelius Charm, so it must be safe enough to disapparate to. You can apparate us away from here, right?'

Dobby nodded his head, proudly. 'Then we'll go there,' Hermione concluded. Her voice then changed to a whisper. 'But — what about the locket, and Draco?'

All their eyes returned to the boy in question, still standing there with his red-veined eyes looking the tiniest bit possessed in the cellar's vague light. 'We'll have to take him along,' Harry whispered. 'We'll figure out how to get the locket from him once we're safe, and make him act _normal_ again.'

Draco placed his hand on the green locket at the mention of it, took a step backwards but didn't lose eye-contact with Harry. 'He's indeed not quite acting like himself,' Hermione replied.

'Suspicions that may or not be true,' Draco answered, again in a whisper-like tone. It surprised them all, as they had thought he hadn't been listening. 'But I'll wait.' His eyes held one long, last stare in Harry's before he turned around, up the stairs and out of view.

'He's gone nuts,' Ron concluded as Harry faced his friends again. 'That spell you've casted has made him lose his mind.'

Harry swallowed. Would that be true? But Hermione already shooed those suspicions away. 'It’s the locket,' she said. 'I think it's making him feel weird — maybe more evil than he actually is.'

'Evil?' Harry replied. 'He just gave me his wand!'

Hermione sighed and shrugged. 'I have no idea what's going on with him, Harry — but you have to admit he wasn't acting anywhere near normal, was he?'

Harry indeed couldn't say he was acting like the Draco he used to know. His face was so emotionless; no expression there to tell how the boy truly felt. He seemed to be in pain, but yet there were no signs stating that as a fact — beside the scars and tired eyes. Those eyes... they weren't quite what they were either, were they? So much darker and filled with… _evil_ , to steal Hermione's word. But what had been that move of giving Harry his wand? Had it been Draco's true self fighting against another? Had the old Draco pushed through the new one for a few seconds? Harry didn't know, and neither did any of the others.

What they did know, however, was that they had to get out of Malfoy Manor's cellar as fast as they could. Luna apparated away first with Dobby — and within five minutes the elf returned with a satisfied smile upon his face. It was now there turn, and Hermione and Ron already took Dobby's hands. Harry couldn't. He froze. 'Wait,' he said. 'We can't just leave Draco behind.' 

'He told us he'd wait,' Hermione replied, a nervous undertone hearable in her voice.

 

'And you don't want to take him with you in this condition do you, mate?' Ron added to it.

They were speaking the truth, Harry knew, but he was determined and wouldn't leave without Draco — not again. 'I'm sorry,' he told his friends before taking Draco's wand out of his pocket and turning himself towards the iron gate. A Bombarda spell was casted, and bits of it flew around their ears, clattered down onto the tiled floor. Smoke covered their figures as they went up the stairs; as if a dragon was softly blowing clouds around them to help them in their escape. They could hear others cough, perhaps their captors were still in the room above them. A half-golden wand pointed in front of him. Clouds of smoke slowly fading away. Two friends behind his back, staying close, and a house-elf lingering behind as well. Three dark figures came into view, and Harry casted _stupefy_ at the first he saw.

He heard a woman's voice scream, followed by flashes of green and red. They all ducked to the ground, waited for the smoke to fade away so they could face their opponents. Meanwhile Harry tried to defend both himself as his friends, whom had lost their wands to the Snatchers earlier. They crawled across the room, rose to their feet again as the smoke was finally gone. With an _Expelliarmus_ , Harry took away the wand of Narcissa Malfoy. He threw it in Hermione's direction, who in her place retrieved the wand of Lucius Malfoy with a single flick. That one was thrown at Ron, and their last opponent was looking at them with a horrified look upon her face, but Bellatrix still seemed confident — ready to blast a curse that would hit all three of them at the same time.

Yet, as that exact curse was about the leave her lips, another flash of red hit her from the back. She fell to the ground like a piece of stone, flat on her face with her black curls following behind. From the back of the room came Draco sauntering, taking his time while eyeing Bellatrix from the floor. Harry was confused to see Draco didn't seem to have a wand, and appeared to have casted the spell with his bare hands. Draco's parents looked at him in shock, in disbelief of what their son had done to a witch that was on their side. 'Draco—' his mother began, but her son hushed her by holding a finger to his lips.

'Silence,' he demanded.

But Lucius' dictionary didn't seem to hold that word. 'Do you want us dead?' he scowled, taking an angry step closer to his son.

Draco gave him a glare before lifting a single finger, and sending his father flying through the room — hitting a wall and falling down in a heap of misery. ' _Silence_ , I said!' he now shouted. It was as if he had hit his father with a the _Expelliarmus_ spell, or something similar, but how could one cast such a spell without a wand?

Unsure of how to react, the trio took a step backwards with their wands still raised. Harry had never seen Draco like that before; so angry yet controlled. He knew Draco to be someone whom would show his emotions whenever he was fighting a battle. He knew Draco was good at wandless magic, but what he had just witnessed was next level to what he knew the boy was capable of. It frightened him, he couldn't deny, and therefore he kept his wand raised. 'D-Draco? Are you alright?' Harry asked hesitantly.

Dark eyes switched from his father to Harry, to stare deeply into his greens again. His mood seemed to change, as if rain was making way for sunshine. 'I'm fine,' he answered with a little smile. 'Shall we leave now?'

Harry looked over his shoulder at his friends, whom held a tight grip around their wands and were eyeing Draco in a suspicious way. 'Are you sure about this?' Hermione asked in a whisper tone, knowing that Harry was about to lower his wand.

'He just hurt his father without a wand, Harry! He's dangerous!' Ron protested, again in a bit of a whisper as he was afraid Draco would hear his words.

Confused and unsure of what to do, Harry looked at the blond again — still standing there amongst fallen, silent figures. 'We have to,' he concluded, before lowering Draco's wand. He slowly walked over to Dobby, took the house-elf's hand in his. Ignoring the raised wands of Hermione and Ron, Draco joined Harry by his side, taking Dobby's other hand. The house-elf seemed cautious as well, and glanced up at Draco with even huger eyes than he already had. Eventually Hermione and Ron had to give in, lower their wands and take ahold of Dobby as well. The house-elf gave them one last look before he sent them traveling through dimensions, all the way to Shell Cottage.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

A wind's breeze. The smell of the sea. Sand underneath his hands and their grains sticking to his fingertips. He opened his eyes, looked at them and noticed how the color of his skin mixed itself with that of an evening sun. Crawling to his feet, he overlooked sandy hills and a sea in the distance — its sound loud yet peaceful at the same time. To his right he saw Hermione and Ron, landed next to each other and crawling to their feet. To his left he saw Draco, already standing upright as straight as a wand. And behind him was Dobby, another proud smile gracing his small face before he ran off towards the cottage — probably to tell everyone the others had arrived.

In complete silence they walked to the cottage, the sea still loudly declaring its presence behind their backs. Hermione and Ron kept their distance from Draco; walked a few feet away and kept glancing at him with suspicious eyes. Harry himself didn't even know how to feel around the boy. He loved him too much to truly see for what he had become, though there was no way in denying Draco wasn't acting like himself. They had to see and find out what was wrong with him — try to cure him from whatever curse was possessing him. And quick. 

Harry reached the cottage first. A squeaking door, a chandelier of seashells slowly swinging in the wind. The smell of lavender. Fleur stormed in their direction, and Harry knew she wanted to wrap her arms around Draco — hold the friend she had missed so greatly in her arms. But Harry stopped her, placed a hand upon her shoulder and brought his head close to her ear. 'he's not himself,' he whispered to her, hoping she would understand.

'What happened?' Fleur asked, but Harry shook his head for he didn't even know himself.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

A day passed at Shell Cottage, and a sleepless night joined along as well. As the others were peacefully sleeping in their rooms, probably dreaming about the sea outside their window, Harry laid awake with a strange Draco by his side. He couldn't help but feel the boy's eyes stabbing in his back while he tried to sleep — their darkness like a void trying to swallow him one inch at a time. As he turned around, giving in to his curiosity, he found his thoughts had been truth. Draco's dark eyes stared back at him in a creepy manner, and as he hesitantly smiled a sort of grimace — Draco smiled back in an even creepier way.

It resulted in no sleep at all, and as he was having breakfast with Hermione early the next morning, he found it terribly hard to stay awake. 'Are you alright?' Hermione asked. 'How did it go?'

'Terrible,' he answered. 'I kept feeling his eyes staring at me — felt how he was still awake and waiting for me to fall asleep. I don't know why I had that feeling, but it kept me up all night.'

A silent sigh followed as Hermione ate a spoon of cornflakes. Her and Harry's eyes wandered off towards the kitchen's window at the same time, stared at Draco that could be seen in the far distance. He sat in the sand like a giant black spider, motionless. It was strange to see the blond dressed entirely in black. Harry had seen him in black before when he had worn the Hogwarts robes, yet it felt different. It wasn't right. it wasn't the beautiful violet he knew, dressed in blue accompanied by a strange but lovely looking hat. 'We have to get that locket off his neck, I'm telling you... it's the reason why he's like that,' Hermione said to him, her eyes still focused on Draco as well.

'I don't know wether it's the locket, Hermione,' Harry admitted. 'Maybe they've just brainwashed him at the Manor or something — is there a spell for brainwashing a Wizard?'

'Obliviate is quite close, yes, but he still knows too many things to have been Obliviated,' she explained. 'Just try to get the locket off his neck first, we'll then see wether he changes or not.'

Harry sighed. 'He won't let me.' Already earlier that morning he had tried to take it off, and even during the night he had tried — but it almost seemed as if the locket could sense whenever Harry was going to try and take it away. Draco always protected the locket immediately or took a step back even before he _could_ try, even before his hand moved the slightest in its direction. 'It has a mind of its own, I believe. It warns Draco when you come closer.'

A short silence fell. The sound of the waves could be heard again. A gust of wind wandered through the opened window. The faint smell of salt. 'What if—‘ Hermione started, but she stopped as if already deciding it would be a bad idea.

'What?'

'What if you're — you know — _intimate_ with him?'

Another glance at Draco, sitting there lifelessly and showing no affection nor emotion at all. 'I wonder wether that part of him is still there,' Harry replied. From what he saw, the current Draco wasn't interested in being kissed or hugged at all — simply seemed as if wanting to destroy everything around his very figure.

'I believe it is,' Hermione said. 'And maybe not from the Draco we know, but from the evil one controlled by the locket.'

Harry frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'When Draco gave you his wand, wanted to come here and therefore fought against the people on his side — I believe it was all the locket's idea. I believe it was its plan all along to be together with you _alone_.'

'But why?' Harry didn't really understand what Hermione was trying to say. Why would a locket want to be alone with him? So he could change its owner from Draco to Harry?

'It's dark magic, Harry. _You-Know-Who's_ dark magic.'

As if that was enough for Harry to understand, it finally hit him what the locket — in combination with Draco's mind, body and soul — was trying to do. It was trying to kill him, and perhaps his friends eventually as well. He, Harry Potter, was its main target. The same target that Voldemort had its eyes on — and therefore a part of its split soul as well. It was only logical, Harry now realized, and _easy_ now the locket had found a host that was incredibly close with its target. 'It's trying to kill me,' Harry repeated out loud, getting a nod of Hermione's head in return. 'And you think if I get intimate with Draco, he will take the bite to be alone with me and try?'

Hermione nodded once again. 'You'd best do it already tonight. Any longer and Draco might be completely lost in there.'

'But how do I stop him from killing me? How's giving him an opportunity to hurt me going to help to take the locket away?' He had already been alone with Draco the night before, but it had seemed as if the locket had waited for him to fall asleep before devouring its prey. It had seemed as if it had been waiting for Harry to come even closer to him, to trust him. But Harry didn't trust this new Draco at all — the Draco that was possessed by a part of Voldemort's soul. He had to destroy it, as he simply had gotten lucky last night, but doubted if it would be the same for the one to follow.

 

'Distraction,' Hermione simply said before leaving Harry alone in the kitchen.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Obeying Hermione's words, Harry approached Draco by the night's fall. The sun had made its way above their heads, slowly sunken away into the night. A few stars were already coming through, and Draco hadn't moved at all since the morning. He hadn't eaten, slept, or done anything but sit by the shore and watch the waves pull back and forth. On the exact same spot, his back scary straight, his eyes never blinking once.

Hesitantly, Harry sat down next to the boy and briefly let his fingers touch Draco's, before placing his hand atop of his. No immediate reaction followed, but eventually the touch seemed to be noticed, as the blond slowly turned his head towards Harry. 'Words can't describe how glad I am to have you back,' Harry said to him, trying to sound genuinely happy. He smiled a fake smile, and searched Draco's abnormal dark eyes for a reaction.

It took a few seconds, but a vague smile appeared on Draco's face as well. 'Me too,' he replied, even though it sounded very off.

Slowly, and with great caution, Harry entwined his fingers into Draco's — and felt how much colder they were than usual. He knew Draco's hands to be cold, but this was different in many ways. Green eyes stared into dark grey, trying to remain there while slowly bending his face closer, and closer. Draco had already moved his other hand up to cover the locket around his neck, but was letting Harry come closer otherwise. It even surprised Harry a bit when he managed to give Draco a kiss; something he hadn't expected this new Draco to allow at all. His lips were cold as well, and hard as if his body had died already a long time ago. He didn't kiss him back, but didn't push away either. He just accepted the strange kiss for what it was and put on an equally strange grin when Harry pulled away. 'I missed you,' Harry told him, trying to awake some kind of emotion in the boy's soul.

He kissed him again, and again, and _again_. The cold stayed, but it seemed as if the locket was starting to understand what kissing was — as Draco suddenly kissed back. It surprised Harry, he couldn't lie, but he knew it wasn't _his_ Draco's doing, and therefore kept his mind focused to make the plan work. Harry softly pushed Draco against his shoulder, and Draco's thin figure gave in to lay itself down in the sand. Staring into his dark eyes, Harry hoped to find some sort of emotion — some piece of Draco he recognized from before. But there was nothing but darkness.

Noticing that Draco was starting to get confused because Harry had stopped, Harry quickly kissed him again, and felt a cold hand take ahold of his shoulder, pushing Harry onto his back. The roles had changed, and there was no way in looking around those raven eyes as they stared at Harry from above — almost the same color as the night sky.

Draco's figure moved itself atop of him, feeling more heavy than ever which was strange to Harry as he knew the boy to be as light as a feather. His eyes kept staring in his — a possessive kind of stare that suddenly scared Harry to the bone. He wanted to throw the boy off him, tell him to leave and go away — tell him to act normal again even though he knew that was impossible. Harry reached out his hands, took ahold of Draco's face and felt the soft skin that was still as cold as ice. 'I love you,' he said to Draco in a whisper. A wet drop then escaped his eye — a single tear which he hadn't planned on shedding at all. 

He felt Draco’s hands slowly move to his neck, but he didn't look down — his eyes were locked in the scary ones of his lover and he was afraid to look away. Harry didn't even panic at first when he felt those bony fingers of the boy tighten themselves around his neck, a tingling feeling radiating from Draco's palms. His scar started to hurt and it was becoming harder to breathe — but he couldn't give in just yet. _A little longer_. He tried to stay calm, told himself if he tried now, it would be too soon. But the pain in his scar only increased by the second, and he was quickly running out of breath. It was as if Voldemort himself was pressing a finger on his scar again — was physically there and casting the Cruciatus Curse upon his figure. As his lungs started to protest, and he swore he could see a vague green light starting to glow from underneath Draco's palms — he grabbed for the locket around the boy's neck.

His first attempt failed, and the locket swung aggressively from left to right. Draco didn't seem to notice for once though, seemed to focus on squeezing the air out of Harry's body. Another grab at the locket, and this time he snatched it off Draco's thin neck. Draco froze, and the blond immediately let go, fell down upon Harry like a stone statue.

Breath was catching. Couching. Soft breathing in his ear that wasn't his. Draco was still alive, but was he himself again? _Put me back! Put me back around his neck!_ Parseltongue, translations of evil curses in evil objects. A dark sky, many stars.

Harry slowly pushed Draco off him, laid him down in the sand. His eyes were closed, but he could see a pink blush slowly returning to his cheeks, followed by the dark circles around his eyes fading a little. Eyes of light grey then opened up, scaring Harry and making his heart jump. Draco took a deep breath in, bolting upward and stared around him as if he had awoken from a long coma. 'Harry?' was the first thing he said.

'I'm here,' Harry replied, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Draco turned himself towards him, his eyes back to the way Harry knew them to be. ' _Je suis vraiment désolé_ ,' he said in French, and that was already enough for Harry to know _his_ Draco had returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Takes a deep breath* F I N A L L Y! I've been stuck with writing this chapter since February, and personal life and its issues have been keeping me from figuring it out. It first looked completely different, but last month I got this sudden vision of how I wanted it to be. Finally, tonight, I have proudly finished another chapter.
> 
> I can't promise the next one will follow soon, but I'll try. I've also been writing a few other stories and saving them for future uploads, as I did have a lot of inspiration for other fics.
> 
> Thank you so much, as always, for reading!


	10. L'épée

 

**_C H A P T E R 2 0_ **

_Draco_

_Trapped, like a phoenix locked in a cage — slowly turning to ashes and unable to rise again. The boy he once knew he was, he was no more. He was a faint glimpse, a faint light somewhere that lost all its shine. A snake-like voice, parseltongue filling his head and demanding him to move. His hands, his feet… everything moved because that voice demanded him to do so. Slowly, Draco lost complete sense of whom he truly was — and started to believe he had always been like this, always been so similar to his father and the Dark Lord he served. Every memory of Harry was gone, as well as those of Beauxbatons and lighter days in general. Happy memories didn't seem to exist — as if they had never happened._

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_'I must leave for a little while,' his Lord announced. Draco could feel the eyes of the other Death Eaters glance in His direction, hesitant yet curious. Draco kept his own eyes focused on the drawing room's door, waiting for something he felt coming. His fingers traced his scars through his shirt. A snake, Nagini, passed by his feet, and the locket enjoyed the coolness of the creature against its ankles._

_'May I ask to where, my Lord?' a voice asked. A stutter, very light and almost inaudible — a sign of fear. Draco's eyes shot from the door to the man with the blond, long hair he once identified as his father._

_Rustling of robes as the Dark Lord rose from his seat, a pale hand sliding over the table's surface. 'There are other tasks that need to be done,' he replied. 'Tasks that neither of you can complete.' Red eyes met Draco's, whom had returned their stare to the door again. 'Something bothering you, dear boy?'_

_'There is someone there,' he answered._

_'Really?' The Dark Lord turned his head towards the door, then seated himself again — unbothered._

_'There is someone there,' Draco repeated, his eyes still transfixed on the darkness of the high, double doors._

_The faintest sigh followed, which seemed to shock the others. Annoyance to the Dark Lord was seen as a crime — yet, the Dark Lord himself apparently found it rather amusing. 'Then why don't you let him in, Draco?'_

_Rising from his seat with his back as straight as it could be, he made a faint gesture with his hand. The doors of the drawing room flew open, revealing a ratty man behind it. His big, bulging eyes looked around the room in fear. Slight whining at his discovery. Next to him stood a tall man, dressed in black robes. A hand wiped away a strand of greasy hair, his face set serious. Ignoring the rat-like man, but keeping his eyes on the man in black — Draco followed how he strode into the room. 'My apologies, my Lord,' the man began. 'I was unable to leave any sooner than I did.'_

_'Severus,' the Dark Lord said as a greeting. 'And Wormtail,' as a greeting to the other one, with more disgust readable in his red eyes. 'Draco here was rather bothered by your…_ unannounced _presence.' His eyes turned to Draco again, and so did those of Snape and Wormtail._

_'Is that truly?' Snape asked, raising one of his eyebrows slightly._

_'He is doubting his side,' Draco then stated, still staring at the raven-haired man without blinking once. His eyes were starting to burn, but the parseltongue in his head commanded him to keep staring.  The words he blurted out were demands from the locket; observations he felt. Observations different eyes than his own had seen._

_'Is he?' the Dark Lord asked, almost in a joking way. 'Sit down, my boy. The locket is being too loyal to me.' Draco sat down immediately, his hands placed on the table's surface and his eyes casted away again. Yet there was no denying that Snape's aura had changed just the slightest — as if he had suddenly become more wary of something; of a kind of threat that was Draco himself _— at least, in his current state_._

_As Snape sat himself down on the last vacant chair, Wormtail was obligated to stand against the wall — in the corner of the room with his large eyes pointed towards the floor. 'Where was I,' the Dark Lord continued._

_Another voice interrupted him, one that belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange. A screeching voice she had, like a combination of sandpaper and nails scratching on blackboard. The locket didn't like the sound of her voice; found it painful to listen to. 'My Lord,' she began. 'Must we not discuss the ability of Draco to — to do wandless magic just like that.' She flicked with her own hand as an example. 'Or must such skill be ignored and seen as ordinary, my Lord? Something like that —_ unseen _!'_

_Another would have spoken these speculations with a proud tone, an exciting one — yet Bellatrix said every word in a negative way, as if Draco had become a danger for what he was capable of of doing. The Dark Lord's stare searched for Draco again, whom was glaring at Bellatrix with a certain fire in his eyes. 'Of course we mustn't ignore this,' he replied. 'Lucius, have you ever noticed your son was capable of performing wandless magic?'_

_Lucius bolted upright, as if ready to defend himself and his family. 'Y-Yes, my Lord. Draco has taught himself how to perform certain spells without a wand already years ago. It started off with a simple drying spell — a few butterflies,' he explained._

_The Dark Lord interrupted him by raising a hand. 'What I just saw doesn't really look like butterflies to me, Lucius. Your son just made a door move by pure will.' His eyes switched from Lucius to Draco, and a weird little smile lingered upon his lips. Draco could see from the corner of his eye how Lucius sat himself down again, slowly as if afraid the Dark Lord would shout at him if he sat down too fast. 'Although… I am amazed, to say the least.'_

_The heads of all Death Eaters, including that of Draco, now turned in the Dark Lord's direction. 'Amazed?' Bellatrix let out in a disgusted way. 'He is trying to overthrow you, my Lord! Before you know, he will take us all down!'_

_A loud sound followed as the Dark Lord slammed his fist atop of the mahogany table. With a slight scare, Bellatrix bowed her head, kept her eyes casted away from her Lord. 'As long as Draco wears the locket —_ my _locket — he will remain on our side. And no magic in this world is powerful enough to take it off his neck, except for my own.' Another slam followed, now making everyone bow their heads to their Lord. Only Draco kept his head straight, his eyes still staring at the Dark Lord, whose own eyes were focused on the locket around Draco's neck — his lips moving slightly as if he was whispering unsaid words to the piece of jewelry._

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_She came in the afternoon._

_They brought her in with her wand in their hands — a defenseless witch with long blonde locks for hair. 'Bring her to the cellar,' Lucius said as they passed the table. They were having tea, as if there wasn't anything severe going on in the world, but just a normal afternoon where one drank tea with their family. Narcissa sat across from him, a cup and saucer in her shaking hands. Draco's tea was untouched, and Lucius was already drinking his third serving._

_Draco's eyes looked up, stared into those of a girl whom seemed afraid — yet determined not to show that fear. 'Draco?' her soft voice said in a strange way._

_Eyes had turned his way, confused and curious. The Snatchers that were holding on to the girl stopped in their pace at Lucius' command. 'You know this girl, son?'_

_With his eyes still looking into her blue ones, Draco's mind tried to recall where she knew him from — but the Draco possessed by the locket had no idea. Parseltongue whispers tried to figure it out, and in between those whispers slipped the memory of a_ Luna, _skipping through a castle's hallway on a bright sunny day. 'I certainly do not,' he answered, though. The Snatchers went on, out of the room and out of view. 'What has she done?'  The locket was curious, especially because its host knew the girl._

_Lucius glanced at his son. 'Her father owns the Quibbler — you know, that second-hand type of magazine. They were rooting for the good side; for the side of Harry Potter.'_

_The mention of that certain name made Draco's heart skip a beat — and it startled the locket. The tea cup jiggled against the saucer in his hands, spilling some tea over its edge. 'Draco, dear… are you alright?' Narcissa asked, placing her own cup on the table again._

_Ignoring her words, Draco rose from his seat and left the room._

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_They came at night._

_A bright moon, not many stars. It wouldn't let him sleep again, and therefore he was wide awake. His eyes were itching, his scars were aching and his mind was blank. Still fully dressed, he was seated on his bed, his shoes making dirt marks on his sheets._

_An awful sound then could be heard._ An alarm. Someone's here. An intruder. _The locket's first reaction was to jump from the bed and go see what it was, its second reaction however was to wait, be patient and let others handle the issue._

 _The alarm stopped, and a quiet night returned — for a moment. Its curiosity too grand, he made Draco rise anyway and sauntered to the landing, overlooking the entrance hall beneath. Three people, young people, were being dragged in by Snatchers whom he had vaguely seen before. Lucius let them in, now guided the group to the drawing room by the looks of it._ _Bellatrix' screeching voice followed, demanding something none of the prisoners seemed to have or know about. The locket hissed inside Draco's body; it detested the witch's voice and made Draco hold his hands to his ears. A door then opened, filling the entrance hall with a bright light coming from the drawing room. Narcissa, standing by the end of the stairs and looking up at her son. 'Draco?' she started. 'Will you come down for a minute?'_

_A firm nod, and Draco went down the steps carpeted in emerald green. The drawing room was brightly lit by a burning fire and the light of a chandelier — its crystals throwing deformed shadows onto the floor. Bellatrix her hand grabbed for his sleeve, pulled him closer by his robes and pushed him onto his knees — to face a boy he didn't know. To face green eyes brighter than any color green he had ever seen. The locket became mesmerized. The face he saw confused him; the eyes spoke to him like a book and for a faint second it seemed as if all his memories of this person returned to him._

_Something watery dripped down his cheek, like a drop of rain. The locket didn't know what sadness was, what crying meant — and therefore he hadn't noticed… until…_ the scar _. He saw it becoming clearer and clearer on the boy's head. A scar the locket_ did _recognize._ This is him. This is the one whom defeated my master.

_He denied recognizing him as he himself had come up with a plan — a plan on taking his own revenge. The piece of soul that his master had stored away in the locket now finally broke free in its true form — and it knew exactly what to do._

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

_The trick with winning his trust had worked. He had accepted his host's wand, had fought to bring him along to a place that was supposed to be safe from the Dark Lord — but was now being invaded by a piece of that Lord himself._

_He had already tried the first night, but Harry — the stubborn boy — wouldn't sleep. He knew he was awake. He knew Draco was watching him, waiting._

_A whole day of thinking, a whole day of a head filled with whispers in parseltongue and screaming he couldn't remember ever hearing before. The waves of the sea were supposed to be calming, but it drove the locket's mind even more crazy. Draco watched through the eyes of the locket, but was unable to do anything nor think anything at all. He was the locket's mind now, and he was to obey to its whispers and plans._

_How willingly Harry had suddenly come to him, taken his hand, showed affection — yet another thing the locket didn't know anything about. Love, was it a term the Dark Lord had ever known? But he knew what had to be done, he knew that to win the trust of this boy even more was to play his game — to make it seem like he was_ normal _again. Like he was the Draco this boy loved so dearly._

 _He could feel his magic radiate through his palms, could feel how the Avada Kedavra curse was slowly transferring itself onto Harry's skin. The locket's mind was more possessed than ever, more determined than it had ever been before._ I must kill. I must kill the boy! _Wandless magic was one of the most exhausting things a wizard could perform, yet the locket continued._ Kill! Kill the boy!

_And then, everything turned black._

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

'Harry?' he shot upright, stared around, unaware of where he was. It was so dark and his heart was beating so fast.

'I'm here,' a voice said from beside him. A soft voice. A calming voice. A hand upon his shoulder.

' _Je suis vraiment désolé_ ,' he said in an impulse, the first thing he could come up with, even though he wasn't quite sure of what he should feel sorry for.

Comforting, strong arms wrapped themselves around him — and he noticed how cold he was. 'It's alright — you're alright.'

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again at the sound of something he recognized — at the sound of parseltongue. Grey eyes searched for where it came from, and found it clenched in Harry's hand. _The locket._ Memories returned to him — memories of which he wasn't sure were even his. It were his hands, it was his reflection in the mirror, his voice — yet it didn't seem to be truly him whom did and said all those things. He wanted to apologize again, but quickly understood it wasn't his fault, but that of the thing Harry was holding onto so dearly.

'Where are we?' he asked instead, taking another look around. His mind seemed to know, but he wanted to hear it from Harry's mouth.

'Shell Cottage. It's where Bill and Fleur live. It's safe, Draco.' A nod followed. 'Do you want to go inside? You must be exhausted.' He nodded again.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

The robes he wore felt heavy, dirty, not his or anything he would ever wear. He knew they were his though, but had thought to have disposed them already ages ago. 'Who on earth decided to dress me this way?' he complained while taking them off, throwing them somewhere in a heap onto the floor. A grin. Harry had a smile on his face as he took off his own clothes, for once neatly folded them onto a chair. Draco's hand reached for his hair. It felt greasy and fried at the same time, as if it hadn't been washed in months. He pulled a face, then unbuttoned the shirt he had been wearing underneath the robes. A gasp. Having to hold on to the bed's frame to keep himself from collapsing.'W-what—' he started, but was unable to finish the question as his eyes filled themselves with tears.

But the tears couldn't cover the ugliness of the dark, red lines on his stomach and chest. Hurried footsteps were heard as Harry nearly ran to Draco, taking his cold hands in his warm ones. 'Shh, it's alright — it's just scars,' he told Draco in a soothing way, yet with an undertone of worry and guilt. It didn't help, as Draco's tears kept falling down, his body slowly shaking with every escaping sob. 'Don't you remember?'

Visions of blood. Crimson on his hands. _The pain_. Everything was slowly returning. Draco could hear the ripping of flesh again his ears — a macabre memory he had hoped to have lost. Accompanied by the cry of a boy — cries he couldn't recognize as his own yet they were. A nod followed, as he could remember what happened again.

'I'm sorry, it's my fault. I—,' but Harry now was the one to be unable to finish his sentence.

He let go of Draco's hands, his gaze leaving Draco's eyes and staring at the floor beneath their feet. 'Your fault?' Draco managed to ask, his voice trembling. Nowhere in his memory he could see Harry a part of his pain, of his scars. He only remembered him to be gone while he suffered — to be somewhere, trying to get to him.

A deep sigh followed, and as Harry lifted his head again, Draco saw he was crying as well. It was rare to see Harry cry, and he felt the importance of every tear like a stab through his heart. 'I did this to you, I — I casted a spell I didn't know anything about. I thought you — I thought you killed Dumbledore.'

Draco took deep breaths as he let the information sink in, tried to calm himself for his shoulders kept shaking. Flashes of headmaster Dumbledore falling off the Astronomy Tower slowly slithered back into his mind. A sadness caused by grief overcame him, made his heart sink. 'You were there?' His voice was a mere whisper, but Harry had heard every word and nodded. 'Did I — did I really kill him?

Harry shook his head, his watery eyes staring in Draco's — eyes that showed he was telling the truth. 'You did _not_ kill him, Draco. Snape did. He did it in your place.' Two warm hands took ahold of his arms, as if to make sure Draco would believe him even though he already did.

'Yet you fired a spell at me?' 

'Yes, because I thought you did it at first. I mean — not _you_ , but Castor Idel, actually.'

Everything was getting too confused for Draco, and he had to close his eyes for a second to let everything fall into place. 'Castor Idel?' The name of that boy seemed even more distant than any other memories Draco had lost. 'Why would you think that?'

Harry shrugged. 'You looked like him from the back. I'm not quite used to seeing your dressed in black robes, you see. I knew he was a Death Eater, and didn't even _think_ about your task before acting,' he explained. Draco nodded his head, another tear rolling off his cheek but getting wiped away by the back of his hand. His other hand was placed on his stomach, slowly tracing one of the scars. 'Look, you are just as beautiful with those scars as without them,' Harry assured him, his eyes not leaving Draco's once. 'You will always remain to be as gorgeous as the butterfly you want to be.' 

Draco's hand moved from his stomach to the medallion around his neck. He was glad it was still there — glad no-one had taken it away from him. He slowly nodded his head. 'It's not your fault,' he then said, staring more deeply into Harry's eyes whom now were shining like polished emeralds. 

'It is,' the stubborn boy replied. 'I should've known better.'

A sigh almost escaped Draco's lips, but he contained himself. 'If I had been in your place, I probably would've casted a spell as well.'

'But not this one, not one that would do… would do _this_ to a person!' His voice raised slightly, and Draco could see he was panicking by remembering how idiotic he had been. Harry's eyes left Draco's to glance at the scars on the blond's chest — but the emeralds seemed too afraid to take them in. To look at them longer than a few seconds. Then Draco remembered it was probably the first time Harry saw Draco's scars as well. They had been separated on the Astronomy Tower, and hadn't seen each other since. 

'Harry,' Draco began. 'How can you say I'm still as beautiful as before when you don't even dare to look at them?'

A silence fell as Harry stared at his feet, not knowing what to reply. He seemed to struggle, and wiped away a few upcoming tears with the back of his hand. Draco wanted to hold him, tell him it was all alright, but at the same time he wanted to have answers. Wanted to know why Harry was so afraid to face what he had done. 'Because _I_ did this to you. I hurt you while I was supposed to _protect_ you.'

A sigh finally escaped Draco's lips as he took Harry's face in his hands, made the boy look him in the eyes again. ' _Mon lion,_ ' he started, his voice trembling again. 'I forgive you. I will never blame you. _Ce n'est pas ta faute_.'

Another tear escaped Harry's eye as he nodded short, let his hands find themselves a way around Draco's waist — now even smaller than before. 'I will do everything to keep you safe from now on. My promise to you is that I won't let anyone come close to you or take you away from me again.'

Draco kissed him on top of his head, enjoyed the warmth of Harry's body against his. He had missed that warmth during those long, cold months. He had missed the scent of pine trees. ' _Bien_ , if you so desperately have to be the hero again.' Harry grinned, his laugh echoing into the nook of Draco's collarbone. 'But if there's anything I must do, anything at all to defeat that monster—'

'Don't go do anything stupid, Draco,' Harry protested immediately. You see, always trying to be the hero. Bravery _. Gryffindors._

Draco sneered. 'The only stupid thing I ever did was fall in love with you, Harry James Potter. Don't worry too much about me.' At that, Harry tightened his embrace a little.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Everyone still seemed extremely wary around Draco as they went down for breakfast the next morning. It had been the fist night that Draco had slept for longer than an hour, and his body and mind were thanking him greatly. With his hand locked in Harry's as if to catch up on lost time, they met the curious and doubtful eyes of their friends. Ron looked at him with a strange look in his eyes Draco found hard to decipher while Hermione didn't even dare to look at him at all. Bill seemed to back away a little at the mere sight of him, his hand protectively on Fleur's arm. 'It's alright everyone,' Harry explained, clearing the heavy air and presenting Salazar's locket in the palm of his hand. He hadn't let go of it since the day before; had kept it in his trousers' pocket the entire time. 

Bolting off her chair immediately, Hermione snatched the locket from Harry's hand. 'You did it!' she called out in a cheerful way, followed by a sigh of relief.

Harry gave Draco a little side glance with his eyes, then gestured for them to sit down. 'So... you're normal again?' Ron asked, his eyes slightly squinted as if afraid Draco would hex him as soon as he faced him fully. 

 

'If I ever was,' Draco replied, reaching out for a slice of toast. 'But you could say so, _oui_.'

With those words out, Fleur pushed Bill's hand away to wrap her arms around Draco's neck — almost throwing the blond off his chair.  _'Vous êtes de retour! Mon Draco est de retour!'_ she announced, a smile gracing her face.

Her hair was slightly shorter, Draco noticed, and tied into a braid. It appeared as if she had aged a lot in the few months he hadn't seen her, as he could see the faintest wrinkles appear around her eyes as she smiled. She was too young to have deep wrinkles, Draco knew, but his heart jumped a little at knowing Beauxbatons' princes was becoming a queen. As Fleur let go, Draco's eyes found Bill, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in his hands. He hadn't seen the man before, and now took advantage of taking him in. Three times as much freckles as Ron's, hair the same bright orange and reaching to his shoulders. He was dressed in a burgundy shirt that clashed with his hair, a golden wedding ring around his finger. 'I'm sorry I missed the wedding,' he told the man, suddenly remembering, then turned himself to Fleur again. 'Did you wear my dress?'

' _Oui je l'ai fait. C'était magnifique, Draco.'_

After an elaborate explanation about the festivity, including a show-off of photographs taken at the wedding day — Hermione fortunately changed the subject to the locket again. 'How did you become in its possession in the first place, Draco? We knew Bellatrix had it, but that's where our trail died.'

Everyone grew quiet as their eyes got pointed at Draco again — curious to know the answer to the question. 'Well, the Dark— _I mean,_ You-Know-Who himself gave it to me. Bellatrix had found it somewhere, returned it to him before he gave it to me to wear. I had no choice but to wear it, even though I knew it was something evil.'

Eyes moved to the locket again, still whispering words only one of them could understand. 'It's still upset,' Harry explained, as if reading everyone's mind. 'It keeps demanding me to hang it around Draco's neck again. Around its host.'

'It calls me its host?' Draco asked with frown eyebrows. A nod followed. 'I thought it was only loyal to You-Know-Who?'

'Oh, it is,' Hermione answered instead of Harry. 'I believe it just wants to use you as a temporary host, as it finds you the best method to get closer to Harry. Which of course was its plan all along.'

'About that,' Draco began. 'I faintly remember You-Know-Who mentioning something about no-one being able to retrieve the locket from my neck but himself — yet Harry has succeeded in doing so.'

Draco glanced at Harry now, whom was staring at his toast with an empty expression. 'Luck, I guess,' he answered, but Draco could hear the lie in his voice. If he could see Harry's eyes, he was sure they would scream _liar_ as well. Something was wrong — there was something that Harry didn't want the others to know. But why? Why was he hiding the reason why he could take the locket away from Draco? Was it perhaps because he was the Chosen One?

 

The others seemed to believe it was pure luck as well, besides from Hermione of course, whom also threw Harry a suspicious look. They closed the locket subject, and Hermione hid it carefully away in a small purse.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They sauntered over the sand, their hands locked. It was a lovely afternoon with a bright sun, a cold wind but a calm sea. They had done nothing more but be close together, enjoy each other's presence they had missed so much. Stories, memories of the last few months seemed unimportant — only _now_ seemed to count. Yet Draco knew this moment of peace couldn't last. Outside of their little circle, outside their safe-haven of spells; there was a war going on. The monster wasn't defeated yet, nor were his followers. There still was a lot that had to be done, and Draco knew Harry had been given a task — a task of finding certain things that belonged to Voldemort — objects similar to the locket he had worn. Why else had they been so desperate to retrieve it?

And thinking about the locket, Draco wasn't ready to close to topic on that matter yet. 'Why did you lie to everyone this morning?' he asked straight away, glancing at Harry whom was staring at the line that formed the end of the sea, and the beginning of the sky.

'How do you know I lied?' sounded his reply.

'I've known you longer than today, Harry. I can hear such things.' 

The boy turned his head to Draco now, his raven hair blowing out of his face and exposing his lightning-bolt shaped scar in its full glory. 'It's nothing you should worry about.'

Draco stopped, pulling Harry's hand to make him stop as well. 'It is. It's important for us to have each other — to trust each other. Is it that big of a thing?' Raising one of his eyebrows slightly, he watched how Harry sighed deeply and nodded his head.

'I'll tell you when the time's right,' he said. Draco wanted to argue with that, but Harry raised a hand. 'And that time isn't right now. Soon.'

With that, they continued their sauntering. Kicking sand up with their feet, their shoes both dirty and old looking. Where had the time gone where Draco had worn the shiniest shoes of all? He had borrowed a sweater from Bill today, a grey one that was close to a blue. The trousers he wore were from Ron, whom had been the only boy to have a spare pair with him. They were grey as well, way too long and way too big around his waist. He had to use one of Fleur's belts to keep it up, roll the ends to keep him from falling. The overall feel of the lighter grey was better than the black had been though, and Draco was grateful for being able to borrow those clothes.

Later in the evening, he sat on a chair with his face towards a window, taking in the night sky. Fleur stood behind him, ready to cut hair that hadn't been touched in months. It had grown to his shoulders, the silver locks longing for their former glory. 'Are you sure you want to cut it short again?' she asked. In Fleur's eyes, Draco's hair would forever be the long locks he had had before — the beautiful Veela-like hair every girl had been jealous of.

' _Oui,_ ' he replied, unwilling to ever resemble his father again in any way. Harry had told him earlier that day that he had been mistaken back then, that he recently had realized that Draco had never been anything like the man at all. Still, Draco wanted to keep it short and enjoyed the ease of having short hair. Therefore, locks of silver fell to the floor again.

Harry let a hand go through Draco's freshly chopped hair, a bright smile on his face. Harry's own hair had grown a bit as well, but Draco liked it that way. It curled lovely at that length, stroking the top of his ears. The only boy amongst them with long hair was Bill, with his shoulder-length, bright orange hair. It couldn't compete with Luna's long locked though; hair that always looked as unruly as Harry's but fairy-like at the same time. She hadn't said a lot since they had arrived at Shell Cottage, but loved to spend time with Dobby the house-elf. 'How did you know Dobby, actually?' Harry now asked, catching Draco's eyes glancing in the elf's direction.

He put on a little smile. 'He used to belong to our family when I was only a little boy — but when I went to Beauxbatons for my first year, my parents found it unnecessary to keep a third house-elf at the Manor,' Draco explained. 'An uncle of mine, whom lived not too far away, was in the need of a new house-elf and that's where Dobby went to. But then—,' Draco stopped for a second to look at Harry with a little smile. '—a certain wizard named Harry Potter set the elf free only a year later, which led to our uncle being furious with us. He wanted a replacement, which we provided him with, and _papa_ insisted on finding out where Dobby went — what exactly had happened. Of course he hadn't been very pleased when finding out he had been set free, and was working at the Hogwarts' kitchen like a true employee!'

Harry laughed, his eyes now looking at Dobby as well whom was rocking a fuchsia knitted hat. 'I remember your uncle. He was the one to give Voldemort's diary to Ginny. It demanded her to open the Chamber of Secrets. He was very rude to mister Weasley as well, I remember, they even fought in Florish and Blotts once.'

Now Draco was the one to laugh. 'Well, he has been known to be a Death Eater as well — together with _papa_ , that is. _Alors_ , Dobby showed up at our door all of the sudden a few months ago — I remember that as I was the one to let him in. I don't think I was truly possessed by the locket back then, at least not yet. He asked if he could stay for a while, hide away. Don't ask me what he was hiding for — perhaps the smart little elf knew he would be of some use sooner or later.'

'He's a smart elf indeed, and the most loyal one I've ever met,' Harry said, looking at Dobby with loving eyes.

Grabbing a chair for himself now as well, Harry sat himself down and stared out of the window. There were a lot of stars tonight. Tiny dots of fire, thousands and thousands of miles away. He placed a hand on Draco's thigh, drew a few circles with his index finger as a loving gesture. 'What now,' Draco asked, a sigh escaping his mouth.

'Now we find a way to destroy the locket — and try to find the other horcruxes,' Harry replied, sighing as well.

'Is that what they're called? The objects that have something to do with You-Know-Who?' Harry nodded. 'And we must destroy them?' Another nod.

'There's a part of him in it, and we must destroy all seven parts in order to defeat him. Two have already been destroyed, and the third one is currently hidden away in Hermione's purse. That leaves four for us to find, and five to destroy.'

Never had Draco thought this would be the way to defeat Voldemort; to find seven parts of his soul and destroy them before even thinking about defeating the once-man himself. It was a task harder than he could've ever imagined — a weight that was heavy for Harry to carry. But fortunately he didn't have to carry it alone; Draco knew he had told his two best friends about it as well, and now to him too. Together, with the four of them, they would be able to carry the weight of saving the Wizarding World — find the horcruxes and defeat him whom everyone feared.

A silence fell. Not even the others, whom had been talking in the living room nearby, were making a sound. Only the loud wind outside was hearable, the faint waves of the sea. 'Where do we start?' Draco asked, turning himself to Harry and breaking the silence.

A small smile appeared on his face, and on Harry's as well.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

'Are you sure about this?' Hermione asked for the hundredth time. It seemed as if Harry and Ron were experiencing deja vu's, as they rolled their eyes several times.

'Yes, Hermione — we're sure.' Harry hiked up the sandy hill with great difficulty. He was tired, Draco noticed, but they all were.

A week had passed, and they had used every second of it to think about locations of horcruxes — locations of where they could possibly find Gryffindor's sword. Draco hadn't understood the connection at first, but soon enough had heard that the sword was very powerful and one of the only methods to destroy a horcrux with. Dumbledore apparently had used it to destroy the ring — and now they were planning on destroying the locket with it.

_It had been silly of the trio not mention anything about the sword at first, but only after a week. Draco hadn't known they had been searching it, so at the first mention of the item, he had given them a strange look. 'You're looking for Gryffindor's sword?' Eight eyes had stared in his direction, curiosity visible in them for they had heard a nonchalance in his voice that could only mean he had heard of it. 'Why didn't you say that earlier? I know where it is.'_

'We're insane for doing this!' Hermione now declared, also reaching the top of the hill and taking deep breaths. She was wearing dark, intricate robes — the kind Draco's mother usually wore. Her face was set dim, a look of disgust readable in her eyes as she held on to a flask of Polyjuice Potion. 'Breaking into Gringrotts! We've officially lost our minds…' Harry and Ron ignored her, Draco on the other hand agreed, but knew there was no other way. 

_'You know where the sword is?' Ron had asked in disbelief, giving Draco the mouth-wide-open look he fashioned so often._

_Draco had shrugged his shoulders while nodding. 'Bien sûr! My aunt Bellatrix won't shut up about it. She checks frequently wether it's still there — as if she herself was in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin all those years ago.'_

_'How did she even come in possession of the sword?' Harry had asked._

_But Draco hadn't had to answer, for Hermione already knew how. 'Hogwarts, of course. Snape is headmaster there now, isn't he?' They all had nodded their heads, for they knew those facts from reading the Daily Prophet  'She must have gotten it through him — probably on command of You-Know-Who.'_

_'And he wants it locked away for he knows it can destroy the horcruxes,' Harry had finished. 'He knows we're looking for them, doesn't he?'_

_Hermione had shrugged. 'I don't know, Harry. It can also just be a pre-caution — or maybe he just wanted it.'_

_'Knowing my aunt, it can also just be something_ she _wanted,' Draco had added. 'She loves collecting stuff like that.'_

A wind blew in Draco's face, sending a cold shiver down his spine. He was wearing the dark robes again, his wand given back to him and tucked into his left sleeve. Harry took out the invisibility cloak from his father, gestured for Ron to come closer to him. 'Alright,' Hermione then announced with a deep sigh. 'Ready?'

She was the one that was going to disapparate, as she had always been the best at it. Draco took his hand in hers, and Harry took her other hand while Ron threw the cloak over himself Harry. The duo disappeared, but Draco could still see Harry's tan hand float into the air — still locked with Hermione's. 

Another gust of wind passed by, and they were gone.

A few moments later they stranded in a deserted Diagon Alley with their feet on the cobbles in front of Gringrotts, Wizarding Bank. The tall, marble structure rose in front of them — the golden details Draco remembered looked dirty and unpolished. A glance over his shoulder, but besides from a single witch; there was no-one to be seen. 'Why is it so quiet here?' he heard Ron whisper by his ear.

'Everyone's afraid,' Hermione whispered back — Hermione that had now transfigured into Bellatrix Lestrange, a woman all four of them despised. 

Hesitant yet confident, they stepped into the back. More gold and marble greeted them, bringing Draco back to a Beauxbatons minus the blue. A few goblins were working in all earnest, not even glancing up as they strode through the large entrance hall. They passed by columns of marble and desks neatly lined in rows. Hermione seemed nervous, her walking wobbly as she was wearing a pair of Fleur's heels. 'Fix your face,' Draco whispered to her from the corner of his mouth.

Hermione quickly tried to mimic an expression that was a mix of irritation and anger, not quite the perfect look either but better than before. A Bellatrix Lestrange whom had eaten something terribly and was suffering from an intense stomach-ache, that was the version of the cruel woman Hermione resembled the most. Holding in a grin, Draco bit his lip and tried to focus. He kept his back straight, his expression blank. It didn't take him a lot of effort to look like himself, nor the possessed version if that's what they wanted to see.

They reached the last counter; the tips of their shoes meeting marble as they came to a halt. A goblin wearing crescent-shaped glasses bowed a little forward, to take a better look at whom had disturbed him in his work. Silence. Draco gave Hermione a poke in her side to push her into action. She finally dared to clear her throat, Bellatrix' screeching voice seeming less frightening coming from her mouth than from the real Bellatrix, and Draco dearly hoped the goblin wouldn't notice the slight difference. 'I wish to enter my vault,' she announced, raising her chin a little and throwing the goblin a vile glare. A glare that wouldn't even scare a stray-cat at midnight.

Another silence. 'May you be so polite to present me with your wand, madame Lestrange?' the goblin said eventually, his eyes slightly squinted. _Does he know?_

Hermione placed Bellatrix' wand on the counter; the one Draco had stolen from her only a week ago. His memory couldn't recall the exact moment, but Harry had told him he had taken it away from her without using a wand himself. The wood was black and bent, the sound it made against the marble heavy and muted. No, there wasn't a single memory in Draco's had in which the dark item had made its appearance. The goblin picked it up, slid a finger over the material while examining it with curious eyes. But something was wrong; Draco could see it in his eyes. the boy had always been quite good at noticing when something was going on — and right now it most definitely was the case. A single glance at Hermione was enough to let her know about his doubts. Next he peered at a piece of paper on the counter, then looked over his shoulder at a goblin in the back. 'They know,' Draco whispered, but he didn't wait for the others to react. Pulling his wand from his sleeve, he secretly pointed it at the goblin and whispered _Imperio_.

Tiny, twinkling sparks appeared in the goblin's eyes, followed by a smile. It seemed as if the goblin had drifted off into a land of dreams — dreams in which Draco could control his every move by simply looking at him. 'If you will follow me, Mrs. Lestrange and Mr. Malfoy?' He hopped off his stool, ignored the other goblin whom was giving him strange looks, and opened the gate to let them in — guide them to the underground world of Gringotts Bank. 

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They had fallen, and stopped right in time thanks to Draco's and Hermione's combined spells. Hovering in the air, Draco took a deep sigh before they all hit the ground. Soaking wet they were, their hair sticking to their faces. Hermione was back to being herself; drowning in the robes again and kicking off the heels she couldn't walk in. She retrieved a pair of trainers from her small bag, quickly put them on and ushered everyone to continue walking.

It was dark underground, and dead-silent except for the noise the waterfall above their heads made. It smelled like a combination of mold and lake-water, an unpleasant mix that reminded Draco of the Black Lake at Hogwarts — the lake where he had nearly _drowned_ because of idiotic professors and that idiotic Tournament. The goblin Draco had Imperio'd suddenly came back around, shouted a few seconds before getting the same curse blasted at him again. Irritated, Draco bit his teeth, clenched his jaw and lifted his chin. 'Bring us to Bellatrix Lestrange's vault! _Vite!_ ' he demanded, more serious and angry than he had ever heard his own voice before. The goblin obeyed immediately, took lead and started marching away. The trio next to him were frozen, stared at Draco as if they had never seen him before. ' _Quoi?_ ' he asked, scowled almost while throwing his hands in the air — too dramatically, he knew. 'We don't have any time to lose.'

Hermione and Ron turned their eyes away, followed the goblin, but Harry kept staring at Draco with a weird grin on his face. 'You really don't like getting wet, do you?' he snorted, letting out a little laugh.

'You know I don't,' Draco reminded him, throwing him a meaningful look. Casting a drying charm on himself while following the others, he couldn't help but cast them dry as well. The magical warm wind made their cheeks flush, and Hermione threw Draco a small smile over her shoulder.

It seemed to take forever until they reached the right vault; climbing through small passageways and escaping death through the eye of a needle while moving past a deep, dark abyss. Draco often clamped onto the fabric of Harry's shirt, his knees wobbling under the weight of nervosity. He was going to die, he knew. He was going to die underground while following a dimwitted goblin, dressed in black instead of blue and without a hat. And that simply wasn't the right way to go. Therefore he kept his chin up, set his mind to determination and tried not to think about what was hiding in the deep darkness beneath his feet. Draco could almost cry when spotting the shining number of Bellatrix' vault appear in the distance, ogling at him with a golden gleam. 'There is is,' Draco said as they came closer and to a halt. 'Open up, goblin!' he demanded, and the goblin obeyed by bowing his head and letting a finger slide over the heavy metal of the door.

Locks turned, spun, twisted — and the heavy door finally opened to reveal a room filled with a huge quantity of shiny objects. Gold greeted them as if they had found a tomb somewhere in the Amazon Forest; long forgotten and now all theirs to keep. ' _Mon dieu_ ,' Draco let out as he took in the room. 'She has added quite a few things since the last time I came along a trip down here.'

'And when was that exactly?' Ron asked.

'Well… When I was five, _peut-être_?' A vague memory of a small, blond child holding hands with a tall, blond man. A woman with black curls next to him, opening the door to showcase a collection of potential toys — at least, that was what Draco had thought at the time.

But they were toys no more. And they most definitely didn't have time to play. The sword was here, Draco could feel, and had to be found. 'We better start searching, I'm sure we'll be able to find the sword with four sets of eyes,' Harry assured them, stepping into the vault and letting his eyes roam over the many, many objects.

The others followed, and Draco started searching as well. He came across an old golden Malfoy crest he didn't know had ever existed. A moon cycle in silver, an antique piece he knew once hung in the hallway on the second floor of the Manor. An old tapestry he vaguely recognized as well. 'If my father knew about this…' he mumbled to himself at the sight of many other items they all thought had been lost or stolen from the Manor. His thoughts were soon interrupted, though, as the sound of jiggling filled his ears. He immediately turned around to find Ron with his arms full of the same golden dagger — multiplied.

'Thought it was the sword,' he admitted, pulling a face as the daggers finally stopped multiplying but set something else in action as a result.

'Don't touch anything!' was Hermione's reaction immediately, but not even a second later Harry touched a candle holder with his foot; multiplying it as well.

Draco rolled his eyes, tried to make a way through the now covered floor, but touched a few items himself. 'It must stand out,' he said. 'There's mostly golden items in here, and the sword of Gryffindor is silver with rubies.'

No-one was able to concentrate themselves as things kept multiplying, a pile growing under their feet, next to their legs — _everywhere_. Objects of gold reached their shoulders by the time Harry spotted something shiny on top of a large pile; shining a crimson red and reflecting a red light alike through the room. 'There!' he shouted, pointing at the place where he had seen the sword. 'I'll try to get it.' Trying to push himself up by stepping on top of more golden items — whom multiplied immediately — he tried to reach the sword. Meanwhile Draco, Hermione and Ron were fighting against the objects; fighting against not getting stabbed to death by multiplied daggers likewise to Ron's earlier discovery.

'Got it!' it then sounded, and Harry dived down from the pile, the sword of Gryffindor held up in his hand like a trophy. Not wasting a second longer between the objects of gold, Draco pushed open the vault's door again, letting the items stream outside and fall down the stairs with a lot of noise. Clattering down. The goblin still stood where they had left him, a blank expression on his face, even when a goblet hit him on the shoulder.

They stormed outside almost as fast as the objects had done, Draco demanding the goblin to follow him. To where, Draco didn't know as there seemed to be no way out without the use of a cart — a cart they had been thrown off earlier. With the sword still safely in Harry's hands, they continued their journey through the underground, following the way the goblin was leading them. Draco had demanded him to lead them to the exit; out of Gringotts — but it seemed as if the goblin was only taking them deeper.

After around fifteen minutes of endless walking, they were met with a loud roar of a creature — a roar Draco had heard before. He quickly glanced at Harry, whom did the same for as he knew exactly what kind of creature was waiting around the corner. _A dragon_. As white as snow, its eyes a pale white. Large and deep scars; red and swollen. The creature let out a cry of pain as the goblin jiggled a sort of bell which he had found by the wall. The dragon backed off, its cries unbearable to listen to. 'It's hurting him!' Hermione said, pain and sympathy hearable in her voice.

'It's the only way we can pass,' Draco told her, feeling a stabbing pain go through his own heart as well.

They reached the other side safely, the bell put aside again and the goblin suddenly stopping in its pace. He had a satisfied look on his face, and Draco quickly understood why as he looked at the number of the vault they had been led to. They were standing in front of the Malfoy vault. 'He brought us to my family's vault,' he explained to the others, whom were utterly confused not to see some sort of exit but a large iron door instead.

'Would there perhaps be a way out through your vault?' Ron speculated, but Draco had no idea for he had only visited the family's vault once when he was a child. On the same day he had visited Bellatrix' vault. Another place where toys had greeted him — toys he hadn't been able to play with.

'We can try and see?' he answered instead, moving closer to the door. 'Goblin, open the door!'

'Mister Malfoy must open the door himself,' the goblin reminded him with a blank stare.

A dramatic sigh followed as Draco stamped his foot. _Unbelievable_. Could something go right, go easy for once? Why did things always complicate themselves when both he and Harry were involved? _Bien,'_ he breathed out. 'But how?' Turning himself to the door again, he retrieved his wand from his sleeve to start tapping against the iron. Nothing happened, obviously. With a shrug, he glanced at the others whom shrugged their shoulders in return — not much of help either.

How would a Malfoy heir open his family's vault? How would his family have sealed it off? It had to be something easy so any family member could open it — yet difficult enough to keep others away. Thinking of a few easy spells with a difficult casting, Draco soon realized none worked to unlock a door. The French closed his eyes, let his brain work three times faster for a few seconds to try and find something within his mind — perhaps search through the picture-book of the memories of his five-year-old self. Yet he didn't have to go so far, but found an option he could try while thinking of his family. An option of which he was suddenly certain would be the right one.

Opening his eyes again and immediately pointing them at Harry, the boy frowned, as if Draco thought the way to open the vault was to murder him or something. But he wasn't interested in Harry — at least, not at this moment — but in the sword he was holding. Reaching out for it, he clamped his hand around the iron and slid down, causing a cut in his palm. Blood dripped down the silver of the sword, drops falling onto the stone flooring of the underground cave. A gasp had escaped Hermione's lips, but Draco saw in the corner of his eye that Hermione seemed to realize exactly what he was doing as well. Turning around again, Draco pressed his hand against the iron door; exactly there where the iron was a lot darker than other places. Colored by blood of his ancestors. As soon as the blood touched the cold surface, something inside the door went into motion. He pulled his hand away again; leaving behind a dark-red handprint with a macabre look to it.

'Pureblood,' he explained in the simplest way.

A room three times the size of Bellatrix' vault appeared in front of their eyes; filled with a mix of gold, silver and bronze. There even were a few items colored in that of gemstones, placed next to furniture pieces and a giant statue of a horse. 'Wow,' Ron let out. 'Bloody hell, Draco, I knew you were rich but— _this_ rich?' He reached out to touch something that appeared to be a large snake, completely made out of silver, with emeralds for eyes, but Draco slapped his hand away.

' _Ne touche à rien_ ,' he told him, and Ron obeyed with a small nod of his head. Everything Draco's eyes could see, he himself had never seen before. He didn't even know his family owned a statue of a horse. Out of all creatures. 'There doesn't seem to be an exit in here,' Draco declared with a sigh as he reached the back of the vault, peered behind a few piles and even dared to move a few things around. It wouldn't multiple, he knew, for he was a true Malfoy and therefore was allowed to touch the items the vault held. For now, at least. Ron and Hermione had carefully followed him, but Harry hadn't moved from his position by the door at all. 'Something wrong,' Draco asked.

'Parseltongue,' was the first thing the boy said after a moment of silence. 'I can hear the whispering of a snake. What if— what if there's a horcrux in here?' His eyes met Draco's, and Draco immediately knew what to do without having Harry suggest it. He passed Ron and Hermione, made his way back to Harry and asked where exactly he could hear the whispering come from. 'Somewhere over there,' he said, pointing at a pile to his right. A few steps in that direction and Draco started to pick up every item he could see, held it close to Harry and got a shake of his head each time in return.

The entire pile was soon moved from right to left, leaving only two items on the floor; the silver snake Ron had wanted to touch and a golden goblet. 'It must be the snake,' Ron concluded, pointing at the statue and wanting to touch it again. Another slap from Draco's hand later and he was pouting.

'I believe it's the goblet, not the snake,' Harry declared, pointing at the golden goblet with an engraving of a badger.

'Of course!' Hermione then blurted out. Everyone turned to her, as if forgotten she had still been there. 'It's Helga Hufflepuff's cup!'

Bending through his knees to reach out for it, Draco could also feel a certain magic radiate from its gold. It stroke the tips of his fingers and for a moment he could hear the whispering of parseltongue in his head again. With a little shake of his head and a few blinks of his eyes, he dared to lift it from the ground and hand it over to Hermione, whom was eagerly waiting to see it from up close. 'We have to get out of here,' Draco then announced, already walking to the door. 'I bet they've already started looking for our friend Mr. Goblin over here.' He gestured towards the goblin whom had once again been waiting for them, next to the special dragon's bell.

'But how?' Ron asked, his hands searching the walls next to the vault for some kind of secret exit.

'I—,' Hermione started, drawing everyone's attention. 'I have an idea, but it's completely mad.'

Her eyes were casted towards the ceiling; where far above their heads a globe of light was visible. _A roof. A glass window. A tunnel_. Something was there shining bright daylight. Draco followed her eyes from the globe to the dragon in front of her, still cornered and chained to one of the marble pillars of the underground structure. 'You don't mean—,' Draco began, but his voice was cut off by a certain fear. The French had never liked dragons very much, even though his name meant _dragon_. It was something he had already told Harry about in fourth year — and now it seemed like he was going to have to face his fear.

Moments later they had climbed a few steps, were standing on a landing with and archway that looked down upon the white creature. it was only a short distance; they could jump right on top of the dragon's neck if they wanted to. Draco's knees wanted to give in at the sight alone, and Ron next to him was turning paler by the second. Harry seemed the only one unafraid, his hand confidently clenched around the sword. _Unfair_ , Draco thought to himself. _You've already faced a dragon before._

As they stood there, thinking and waiting for the right moment to go — shouting of voices filled the silence. They were here. They had discovered there were intruders. Draco's heart skipped a beat. He didn't want to get caught. He didn't want to be brought to Azkaban — or _worse_ ; back home. 'We have to go now,' Hermione announced, her breathing rushed as well. 'I'll jump first.'

Without even waiting another second, Hermione was already gone — quickly followed by Harry and a hesitant Ron. But Draco's legs wouldn't move. He saw how the dragon suddenly turned wild, shook its head at the feeling of something heavy upon its neck. 'Draco!' Harry called out, making large gestures with his arms for Draco to follow. The French shook his head, his feet still stuck to the ground as if glued to it.

'I can't!' he shouted back, afraid. 

A few goblins then came storming in, but the dragon held them back by blowing a large cloud of fire. It resulted in frightening Draco even more, and his feet finally moved — but in the opposite direction. He took a few steps back, closed his eyes and tried to block everything from his mind. _Tu peux le faire_ , he kept telling himself, but the words sounded fake. Hesitant, he took a step forward again and opened his eyes. Harry was still looking at him, a desperate expression readable on his face. Draco knew Harry would jump off the dragon any second now; unable to leave Draco behind again. _Je dois faire ça!_ He gathered all his courage and leapt forward, jumped, reached out for Harry's hand and felt himself fall down atop of the dragon's hard scales.

Not even a moment later Hermione shot a spell at the chains that held the dragon hostage; releasing it from its imprisonment. The dragon struggled though, its wings unused for years and heavily scarred. A few failed flaps later and the creature was finally off, flying upward towards the globe of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I have suddenly regained an amazing motivation to finish the fic (also a lot of newly found inspiration). So with a little bit of hope I might end it this month! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> Also, I'm planning on re-reading all chapters of Papillon and correcting some mistakes that I made! :)


	11. Le saphir

 

**_C H A P T E R 2 1_ **

_Draco_

They flew high above the clouds, softness of white brushing Draco's cheek. He had his arms wrapped around Harry's waist, his head resting upon his shoulder while imagining they were flying on something else than a Norwegian Ridgeback — miles above the ground. The dragon had carried them out of London, left the cityscape behind to exchange it for a mountain view. For a moment it seemed as if they were in Scotland again; as if Hogwarts' castle could doom up out of nowhere if they only looked hard enough. However, they were nowhere near Scotland, and Draco believed none of them truly had a clue of where they were.

Their flight seemed to last for hours, and soon enough Draco felt frozen to the bone. Harry's body was shivering as well, his breathing rapid. He couldn't see Hermione and Ron from where he sat, but he knew those two were probably freezing just as much.

When he thought the dragon would never land again, it suddenly leapt down, a large lake appearing from underneath the clouds. 'We have to jump!' he heard Hermione shout. He caught a glimpse of her finger pointing at the lake beneath them, only a few more feet away. Draco sighed deeply. _Not again_. 'On my sign!'

As the dragon lost height, the lake came nearer — seemed to grow in size and sparkle more brightly at them. 'Now!' Hermione shouted, and immediately she and Ron let themselves fall off the large creature. A sudden panic overcame the blond as he watched his friends fall. He felt frozen; by the cold, the dragon and the nearing fall. _What if the water isn't as deep as we think it is? What if we get hurt?_ A fast beating heart. A hand tightly grabbing him by his arm; dragging him along. Draco closed his eyes while he felt adrenaline rush through his veins.

They landed with a loud splash, sinking towards the bottom for a few seconds before swimming upwards towards the sky — following the tiny bubbles, his eyes now opened wide. Draco took a deep breath as he reached the surface, his frozen limbs slightly warmer because of the movement but cold by the lake's water at the same time. The others were panting as well, already swimming towards the nearby shore. 'Come on,' Harry encouraged, swimming alongside him with the sword of Gryffindor still clenched in his hand. 

 _Why does it always have to be water_ , Draco wondered as they let themselves fall down upon a muddy shore. He utterly detested getting wet, yet it seemed to be a returning and unavoidable theme whenever he was around the boy. And not to mention _falling_. Talking about Harry, he seemed to have struggled the most with swimming the little distance. The sword laid deserted next to him, his eyes closed and his chest rising more rapid than ever. ' _Ça va?'_ Draco asked, his voice sounding hoarse of the cold.

One green eye opened up, stared in Draco's direction. Harry nodded his head, then closed his eye again and sighed deeply. 'We have the sword — and a horcrux,' Ron stated out of nowhere. The ginger-haired boy was staring at the lake in front of him, a blank look on his face.

'Indeed,' Hermione added to it. 'Let's change into some dry clothes and get going, for I have no clue of where we are right now.' She looked around her, let her eyes rest upon the dragon in the distance; drinking some of the lake's water on another small shore.

'I can cast some drying spells as well, if you want?' Draco proposed, and Hermione nodded her head in agreement.

'Still, we should change as drying charms leave clothes a bit damp. And I'm not willing to wear these robes any second longer.' Hermione indeed looked a bit silly in the dark robes; they were nothing like Draco would ever imagine her in.

Standing up again — a bit wobbly from having seated on top of the dragon for so long — Draco pulled his wand from his sleeve. A moment he waited, his eyes staring at the piece of wood he almost didn't recognize as his own anymore; the gold was almost all gone, the sapphire he loved so much as well. What had happened to it? _It doesn't matter_ , he thought to himself, before casting perfect drying charms on all of them. Although they were perfect, Draco still could feel that something was different; something about the magic that had erupted from his wand felt different. Was it because he had been possessed by an evil force? Because he had given his wand this new worn-off look? He had no idea, and no time to think about it either. Everyone's hair frizzled a little at the blow of a magic wind, their clothes indeed still the tiniest bit damp. Draco wanted to get out of the black robes just as eagerly as Hermione, and if he could, he would never wear the damn color again.

Changed into warmer and more comfortable clothes, they set coarse to a nearby forest to disapparate to a place they _did_ know. With his arms locked with Harry's — whom still seemed exhausted from the swim — they hiked up a small hill and formed a circle amidst the trees. Before they knew, they were gone again — and landed a few moments later in another forest that could have been exactly the same, if it hadn't been for a small river that ran a few feet away from them. 'I've hiked through this forest with my parents once,' Hermione explained, taking a glance over her shoulder at the small river. 'It's not too far from Hogsmeade, actually.'

'Is it safe, then?' Harry now asked, his panting breath finally gone.

Hermione sighed. 'I wouldn't know… but what _is_ nowadays?'

The topic was closed, and they decided to stay. As Hermione and Ron set up a tent she had magically pulled from her tiny bag, Draco and Harry set themselves to get some water from the river and branches for a fire. 'Are you still alright?' Draco asked again, now keeping his eyes a little longer on Harry. He had finally let go of the sword, given it to Hermione whom had put it in her purse as well.

'Yeah, I'm alright — just tired,' the boy answered while picking up a few branches. 'Are you?'

'I guess.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

An iridescent shield, spells glowing underneath. Two pairs of hands held up with wands in one, Latin words mumbled to the sky. 'This should do,' Hermione said, giving Draco a proud look with her eyes. He knew how glad she was to have someone with her that was good at casting spells, good at magic overall. It wasn't as if Harry and Ron weren't capable of producing any magic themselves — it just wasn't the same. The very boys sat by the tent on a large tree trunk — a fire in front of them burning brightly — while staring at Draco's and Hermione's back. They had casted shielding charms, protective spells that would keep strangers away.

They joined them, warmed their hands after having them held up into the cold wind for almost ten minutes without lowering them once. 'Looked impressive,' Ron commented, getting an agreeing nod from Harry. Draco glanced at Hermione, holding in a laugh.

'If it works it is,' Draco added to it. He was pretty sure it would work, but there was always a possibility of it failing after a certain time.

Day was slowly turning into night, and the forest had already grown darker since they had arrived.The hooting of an owl could be heard, together with the howl of a wolf somewhere in the far, far distance. Deciding that they were safe now, Hermione took out the locket, cup and sword from her small purse. Everyone's eyes stared at the three items as they laid on the ground; on pieces of moss and fallen leaves. 'What now?' Draco asked curiously. He looked up at Harry, whom he expected to know best.

'Now we destroy these two, with this one,' he explained, pointing at the items. Bending forward, he picked up the sword and reached it out for Draco to take. There was still a bit of his blood visible on the silver blade; gleaming a bright red in the fire's light. Hesitantly, Draco took it by its handle and felt how heavy it actually was — no wonder it had been so hard for Harry to swim to the shore with it earlier. The boy then reached for the locket — its parseltongue whispers still upset and demanding. 'I believe,' he started, turning the locket around in his palm. 'That you should be the one to destroy it, Draco.'

Putting on big eyes, Draco immediately shook his head. What was Harry thinking? How could he face something again that had given him so much pain — that had nearly taken away something that he loved most in the world. ' _Non, je ne peux pas_. What if I do anything wrong and I get possessed by it again?' Worry was readable in his eyes, a worry Harry apparently saw as well.

The raven-haired boy leaned closer to Draco, placed a hand upon his knee. 'Don't worry, it won't possess you again. As long as you don't wear it around your neck, that is,' he explained, assured him in some way. Draco nodded, still unsure, and took the necklace from Harry with a fast heartbeat. 

'You don't have to do it if you don't want to,' Hermione commented — drawing Draco's eyes to her. A look of worry. A look of sympathy.

'Non, Harry's right. I should do it,' he replied her, clenching his jaw.

Standing up, Draco walked over to another tree trunk they had dragged to their tent and placed the locket upon it. His hands were shaking. Eyes glanced at Harry for instructions. 'I believe the way to open it, is to say something to it in parseltongue,' the boy guessed. Draco could see in his eyes he wasn't quite sure about it himself, but it didn't sound that absurd either. 'On the count of three, I'll tell it to open — and you just have to hit it with the sword, alright?'

Draco nodded, even though he wasn't confident wether he would even be able to hit it right. He glanced at Hermione and Ron, whom seemed to hold in their breath as their eyes looked from the locket to Draco and back. ' _One_ ,' Harry began, his own eyes staring at locket, concentrating. ' _Two_.' Draco's heartbeat fastened, the sword now raised above his head, his thin arms trembling under its weight. ' _Three_!'

An evil whispering of words followed as Harry demanded the locket to open — and it did. _Now it's up to me_ , Draco thought to himself. He was ready to let the sword go down; the blade slice the locket in two, if that was even possible — but a dark cloud like spilled ink rose from the inside, together with whispers that were no longer said in parseltongue. ' _I know who you really are, Draco Malfoy,_ ' the locket whispered to him. He swallowed, slowly lowering the sword. _'You are just like your father; a Death Eater, an evil person — a person on the wrong side.'_ Draco was confused by the whispers. Why was it Harry's voice he heard? He saw flashes of distorted memories in front of his eyes; that of Harry shouting at him in fourth year, when he had truly thought Draco had been like his father. _'I don't love you, I never did,_ ' the locket's voice now said — _Harry's_ voice said.

Tears started to well up in his eyes as more terrible memories, accompanied by fake ones he had never seen before, flashed by. He saw how Harry hadn't missed him at all while he had been gone. How he had no regret in shooting that terrible curse at him on the Astronomy Tower. How he kissed another boy with an unrecognizable face. 'Stop! _Arrêtez!'_ Draco shouted at the locket, but it continued nonetheless. 

'Destroy it, Draco!' he then heard in between the locket's whispering. It was Harry's voice as well, but whom was the real one and whom the fake? He felt a hand on his shoulder, angrily pushed it away for he was confused and overwhelmed by everything that was overtaking his mind. 'Whatever you see, whatever you hear; destroy it!'

Draco gathered his courage, gathered all his strength to lift the heavy sword again — to raise it above his head. _I have to destroy it. It's telling lies._ With all the power that was left inside his body and soul, he let the sword come down; right atop of the locket.

And it was quiet again.

The only sound that could be heard was that of his own breath, panting, the beating of his own heart. His mouth was opened slightly, strands of hair were sticking to his sweaty face. The warm jumper he wore was suffocating him now. Draco dropped the sword, took the jumper off before giving in to his wobbling knees. Hitting the forest ground, he let his hands go over his face. It had been destroyed — a part of Voldemort's soul was gone. 'I'm proud of you,' Harry whispered to him. He had lowered himself to his knees as well, an arm wrapped around Draco's pale and sweating body. A kiss against his cheek, an arm pulling him closer.

'Who — who's going to destroy the cup?' Ron then asked in a stammering way — in a fearful way. His voice screamed that he didn't want to be the one, and with an irritated sigh Draco saw how Hermione snatched it from the ground.

'I'll do it,' she said, placing the cup on the tree trunk and picking up the sword again. 'It doesn't seem as evil as the locket.'

But her thought was wrong; as she hit it with the sword, she was blasted backwards as if hit by the most awful curse. She was launched at least ten feet in the air, and hit the ground rather hard. 'Hermione!' Ron called after her, storming in her direction with Harry and Draco on his heels.

In a heap of leaves she laid, and to everyone's amazement; she was smiling. Laughing. _Hysterically_ laughing. 'Did you see that?' she said, the brightest smile still on her face. ' _Woosh!_ '

Ron turned himself to Harry, a terrified expression on his face. 'She's gone mad, hasn't she?'

'I'm not sure,' Draco answered, reaching out a hand to help Hermione get up again. And as Hermione was back on her feet, Harry collapsed to the ground as if exchanging positions. Turning towards him immediately, Draco saw how he had his right hand placed upon his scar — screwing up his face and shouting in a scary way. 'Harry?'

He kneeled down next to him, followed by Ron and a still giggling Hermione. What was happening? Why did Harry suddenly collapse and why did he seem to be in so much pain? 'He's having another vision,' Hermione explained as if reading his mind, sighing deeply and serious again now her strange mood had passed. 'I thought he had the skill of Occlumency under control by now.'

Staring from her to Harry, Draco felt a little hopeless of what to do. As Harry twisted and turned on the forest' ground, he suddenly stopped moving as if passed out. 'Harry? Harry!' Draco shouted, shaking the boy's body with a fastened heartbeat.

'Let's get him back to the tent,' Ron suggested, lifting Harry from the ground by his arms. 'He has to rest.' Draco was confused as he saw Harry's best friends carry his lover back to the tent as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Had it happened that many times before? Was Harry going to be alright? He hadn't been enough by his side the past few months to know wether visions like that happened frequently; he only knew they had occurred once or twice in the past. And never this severe. They had always appeared like nightmares; like terrible dreams, Draco knew. But this seemed to be different. This seemed to be as if Voldemort's soul had crawled into the poor boy's body — had started to eat him from the inside.

They laid Harry in one of the bunkbeds the magically enlarged tent held, and tucked a few pillows under his head. Noticing how much the boy was sweating; Draco took his jumper off to replace it with the coolness of a thin blanket. 'He's having a fever,' he announced as he placed a hand on Harry's forehead. _'Il est malade.'_

 _'_ He'll get better in a few days,' Hermione assured Draco. 'Ron, will you get some cold water from the river? Thanks.'

Draco softly stroke Harry's cheek, watched how his eyes twitched fervently underneath his eyelids. Bad dreams. Nightmares. _Visions_. He sighed, took the boy's clam hand in his. 'Why do you think he got a vision now?' Draco asked Hermione, glancing at her.

'I think—' Hermione started, biting her bottom lip a bit. 'I think _he_ knows.' 

'He knows what?'

'That we're destroying the horcruxes. He must've felt it, he must feel that pieces of his own soul are being destroyed… there is no other way.'

Right that moment Ron came walking in again, nearly dropping the bowl of water at hearing Hermione's speculations. 'Are you sure?' he asked while handing the bowl to Draco.

Hermione passed Draco her handkerchief, still clean and neatly folded, and Draco soaked it in the water — then placed it on Harry's warm forehead. 'We'll find out once Harry wakes up again,' she answered, staring at her friend with pitiful eyes.

  
☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Ron held the first watch; sat outside the tent's opening with the fire still burning brightly. His silhouette was clear on the other side of the canvas, and Draco often traced it in his head like a drawing; trying to make time pass faster. Harry's heartbeat had slowed down a bit, and his fever was dropping — yet Draco was still worried, and hadn't left his side for even a moment.

The small table they had in their tent was now loaded with books Hermione had pulled out of her purse; together with a broken radio, packets of biscuits and the sword of Gryffindor. The piece of metal was still shining as bright as ever; as if it hadn't destroyed a few dark items earlier that evening.

'Aren't you cold?' Hermione now asked him. She had been seated at the table for over an hour, reading something Draco couldn't see the title of. At the mention of feeling cold, he suddenly realized he hadn't put his jumper back on; had left it somewhere outside.

A shiver went through his body at the sudden realization, the atmosphere around him shifting from non-existent to a coldness he hadn't felt before. He saw how Hermione rose from her seat, grabbed his jumper from one of the chairs before bringing it over to Draco. 'Here you go,' she said, sitting down on the other bunk bed opposite the one Draco was seated by.

' _Merci_ ,' he replied, quickly pulling the warm fabric over his head. Warmth. Coziness. A flashback to Harry's warm Christmas sweater on a cold day in February.

A short silence fell, before Hermione broke it with her voice. 'The scars,' she started. Draco looked at her, noticed she hadn't taken her eyes off him since she had handed him the jumper. 'Harry gave them to you, hasn't he?'

'I don't —,' he mumbled, not really knowing what to reply. He wanted to defend Harry; keep it a secret and tell her one of the Death Eaters was to be held responsible — but he knew Hermione would see right through him no matter what lie he would tell her. _She's too clever._ 'Not on purpose,' Draco replied eventually, changing his words. He then swallowed and casted his eyes somewhere else but Hermione's intense stare or Harry's unconscious body. 'He didn't mean to hit me; he wanted to curse someone else.'

'And that one?' She now pointed at her own heart, referring to the butterfly-shaped scar, now covered with light grey wool.

Draco still didn't like to talk about the flying incident from so many years ago, and therefore he kept himself quiet. For a few seconds, at least. 'It's from a long time ago,' he explained. 'Harry has nothing to do with that one.'

'I see,' Hermione replied.

'Why do you even care?' Why _did_ she even care? It wasn't as if her worries would make them disappear or heal all of a sudden, would they? He sighed deeply and took Harry's hand in his again, eyes drifting off towards the boy's lightning bolt shaped scar. Memories of a large bathtub where they once had discussed their scars. Draco had gained quite a few since then.

A loud sigh escaped Hermione's mouth, drawing Draco's attention back to her. 'He had been so worried,' she started. 'He thought he had killed you — I now understand why. There must have been so much blood…'

Draco swallowed again at the thought. He actually didn't remember a lot from that night, only vague flashes of green light. A body meeting the night. A dark figure hunched above him. Latin words. 'I don't remember,' he admitted. 'At least… not everything.'

'He does,' Hermione replied to it, gesturing towards Harry with her head. 'And he will forever blame himself, no matter what you will tell him.'

' _Je sais._ ' Draco laid his eyes on the raven-haired boy again; his long eyelashes closed against his cheeks. Suddenly, he saw how much his lover had changed compared to the time they had met; his jawline was more prominent, his cheekbones as well. His skin seemed a bit more rough, his hands stronger. Had his own self changed? He didn't know. His eyes glanced at Hermione, lost in her own thoughts again. She didn't look like the cute girl from fourth-year anymore either. They had all aged without realizing — because although they were still children somehow, they had never had the chance to truly be one. Let alone become adults.

'What were you reading?' Draco asked, swiftly letting his eyes go from Hermione to her book and back.

'It's a French book, actually,' she replied. 'One with special spells and curses that were invented and are mainly used in France.'

Interest triggered, Draco crawled up from the ground — his limbs aching and bones cracking by the sudden movement. 'Want me to help translate a few things?' he proposed, and Hermione put on a bright smile.

By the time the sun started to rise again, they had completed translating the first five chapters, and were now animatedly talking about the differences between the French wizarding world and the English one. They were talking so loudly that they almost didn't hear Harry's faint moan — the poor boy whom they had abandoned after moving themselves to the table. The second moan Draco caught though, and he immediately hurried himself to Harry, taking his hand in his again. ' _Mon lion_ ', he whispered to him. 'How are you feeling?'

Hermione stood behind him, glancing at Harry with eyes as curious as Draco's. Harry had his own eyes opened slightly, blinked a few times in the slowest way ever. 'Okay,' he answered, followed by a deep sigh.

'Rest a bit more, will you,' Hermione told him — almost demanded him.

But Harry shook his head, already bolting upright with the little energy he had. Almost falling down again, Draco quickly sat beside him and let him lean against his shoulder. 'Calm down a bit,' he told the boy.

'Sorry,' Harry muttered as a reply. 'I must — I must tell what I saw.'

With his eyes opened for only a quarter of their size, he started to tell in as great detail as he could about his vision; how he had seen Voldemort in a furious state. 'He's upset. Upset that we have destroyed so many horcruxes already. He had no idea.' Apparently the monster had visited every location of the horcruxes they had already found; only to find them gone, taken away from him while he had remained in the unknown. 'I saw a flash of a castle as well,' Harry then said. 'Hogwarts.'

'Do you think another horcrux is at Hogwarts?' Draco speculated, seeing the same wonder in Hermione's eyes.

Harry nodded his head. 'I believe so.'

With those words said, the boy closed his eyes again; too exhausted to continue. But they knew everything they had wanted to know. Voldemort was aware of the destruction of the horcruxes — aware of the destruction of parts of his soul. He was upset, they now knew, and would go protect the ones that were left. And they had to get to them first; they would have to go to Hogwarts.

They couldn't leave right now though; not with Harry passed out again and in such a weak state. The boy first needed to recover before they could travel to the castle and hopefully find a way in. Draco softly stroke Harry's head; his mess of curls that had become even more unruly overtime. He gently laid him back down, watched how the boy finally seemed to be at peace.

A few minutes later Hermione changed shifts with Ron, and as the ginger-haired boy came strolling into the tent, Draco immediately explained to him what kind of vision Harry had had. 'Hogwarts?' he had replied in slight shock, not believing his words. 'The horcrux could be anything!' And he was right; the castle was filled with hundreds and thousands of things, and only one was another horcrux. They had no lead nor idea of what it could be; but at least they had a location — something that might be as valuable as knowing exactly what it was.

Ron went straight to bed; his eyes puffy and tired from keeping watch from hours on end. Draco was starting to get tired himself as well, and moved Harry a bit aside to squeeze himself next to him; lay himself down in the same small bed. The pine scent that lingered around the boy was very faint now; had been taken over by the smell of sweat and fear — that of visions that were too frightful for the boy to witness. A pale hand crept its way around the boy's waist, his head against his shoulder. At least Harry would wake up assured and safe, Draco thought to himself. At least he would wake up with someone next to him that he knew, and loved.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

'Draco,' a voice whispered. Draco frowned, but kept his eyes closed. His mother was twirling in front of his eyes; dancing to the wireless positioned in the corner of the breakfast room.

'Draco,' the voice repeated, but once again Draco ignored it, for his father now had joined her as well. With his hand on her waist, his other locked in hers, they twirled through the room together — making Draco laugh.

'Draco.' Light grey eyes opened themselves, were greeted by a light brighter than expected. It was probably around noon, and he had forgotten he had fallen asleep in the early morning and not at night. Looking to his left, he saw Harry wide awake stare back with vibrant green eyes. Polished emeralds. Sticky strands of hair against the boy's forehead. 'Hello,' he whispered, as if only now realizing Draco was there, next to him.

' _Bonjour_ ,' Draco replied, feeling the boy take his hand in his. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.'

'Then why did you wake me?'

'Did I?' Draco nodded. 'Didn't realize. Must have said your name in my sleep.' Harry's eyes betrayed him; he knew all too well he had woken Draco by calling his name.

' _Menteur!_ ' Draco scowled, already quickly followed by a grin.

Harry couldn't help but grin himself, squeezing Draco's hand before letting it slide to his waist; to pull him even closer than he already was. Their noses touched, their breaths flowing into each other. 'I'm glad you here,' he whispered, his eyes closed again. 'I won't ever leave your side again.'

'Is that a promise?'

'Yes. Or to say it in your language… _oui_.'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

Their feet crushed branches with every step they took. A crow was shouting at them. A bird sang a melody. They made their way through a dense forest; only a little bit of light leading their way. In the far distance they could see a house; the start of Hogsmeade. They had packed up their tent and belongings earlier that morning, leaving fast without making too much noise. Harry had been sick for another two days; but had declared to have rested enough by sunrise. And so they were on their way.

Draco lingered in the back, stared at the trio in front of them whom were struggling not to fall. Nobody seemed to want to walk the forests of the Wizarding village; and Draco could gladly understand why. Harry nearly fell as he climbed over a large branch with smaller ones attached to it; its nettles stinging him and making him bite his teeth. 'Be quiet, will you?' Hermione hissed at him, followed by a roll of eyes in return.

'I'm trying,' Harry replied, and he really was.

Ron could easily step over large obstacles, his long legs no problem to the whims of nature. Long legs were gifted to Draco as well, but he seemed to struggle as much as Harry nonetheless. There simply was no elegant way to get through a forest, and his Beauxbatons self nearly fainted at the sight of his ripped trousers.

They finally reached the edge; hunched down behind the first house they saw. With their backs against a cold, stone wall; they held their heads together to plan what to do next. The Marauder's map laid open on the ground, in the middle of their little circle. 'We can try to go through Honeydukes secret entrance,' Harry suggested, pointing at the narrow, underground way depicted on the map.

Hermione shook her head in disagreement. 'I bet Honeydukes is closed — just like all the other shops. There is no way we'll be able to get in.'

'We can always throw in a window,' Draco suggested to that, getting a few weird looks in return. Whenever he said something like that — so _un-_ Draco to say — he always got those looks from his friends in return. ' _Bon, pas alors._ '

Folding the map again with a sigh, Harry tucked it away in his jacket's pocket. 'We'll just have to go and see for ourselves, I guess.'

And off they were; hesitantly leaving their safe spot to face the streets of Hogsmeade. They immediately hid themselves behind another house's facade after taking a few steps, peered around the corner again to then move over to the house on the other side of the street. But as they did, the same ear-deafening alarm they had heard in Wiltshire went off — was blasted throughout the entire village. 'Oh Merlin,' Draco heard Ron say with a sigh before they ran off — into a deserted alleyway.

They hid themselves again; this time behind a few empty crates, while listening to the shouting of men. A dozen loud footsteps filled the deserted street, sending crows and pigeons flying off — and leaving the four friends hidden with a small heart.

As the alarm was silenced, but the men seemed to get more near — they suddenly heard a creaking sound behind their back. Four heads turned to be greeted by a face whom they had to look at twice; a near-exact resemblance of Dumbledore was standing in a door-opening. 'Quick,' he said, gesturing for them to come in. 'Hide yourselves inside!'

Not thinking about the invitation twice, they all hurried themselves through the narrow door, up a staircase and into a warm room. Besides Draco, everyone moved towards the window to look what look-alike-Dumbledore was up to next — as a man had turned the corner and had ran into the alleyway just as they had entered the house. Draco wasn't really interested in knowing; was more curious to know where they had arrived. The walls were made out of wood; just like all the furniture the living/dining room held. A portrait of a young girl — staring back at Draco with curious eyes — was the only decoration to be seen. Burning candles. An opened book turned upside down; its spine reading _'The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore'_ , written by Rita Skeeter — an awful woman Draco remember all too well. _Since when was there a book about Dumbledore_ , he wondered, picking up the very book and taking a look at a photograph inside.

He nearly dropped it as the door was slammed closed behind his back. Turning himself around; he saw the man whom looked like Dumbledore cross the room — leave through another door. Draco quickly placed the book back the way he had found it, joined the others whom awkwardly remained standing by the window.

The man returned a few moments later; a large bottle of water in one hand and the other holding a plate with slices of bread. 'I don't have a lot of food,' he explained while dropping it onto the table. 'But this might be enough.'

Without hesitation, Ron immediately sat himself down on one of the chairs and shoved a piece of bread into his mouth — his cheeks immediately bulging like that of a hamster. 'Thank you,' Hermione said to the man, seating herself as well and taking a slice of her own. Harry glanced at Draco, questioning wether he should eat some of the bread as well. Draco shrugged, sat himself down next to the others but didn't touch any of the food at all.

Hunger could wait — knowing whom this man was couldn't.

'And who are you, _monsieur_?' he asked, blinking with his eyes a few times before looking up in the man's old face.

The others stopped eating; a bit startled by Draco's question. Come on, it wasn't as if he had offended the man or anything, had he? The man didn't think so either, as he sat himself down on the remaining chair, and answered him. 'Aberforth Dumbledore, is the name. And yes; I am Albus his brother,' he added at seeing the shocked eyes of Ron.

'I didn't know Dumbledore had a brother,' Harry replied, a confused look visible in his eyes.

'Well, there are probably a lot of things he hasn't told you, Harry Potter.' Ron seemed even more shocked at hearing Harry's name roll of the man's tongue; as if there were a dozen other Wizards in this world whom wore a lightning bolt shaped scar on their head. It was obvious that the man knew whom he was, wasn't it? 'It was foolish of you to come here,' Dumbledore continued. 'There are Snatchers everywhere; hunting for the price that's on your head.'

'We know,' Harry answered him. 'We've met a few already.' 

'Then you should've realized the danger.' A certain anger resounded through his voice — a certain worry that Draco had so often heard in Albus Dumbledore's voice as well. 

'We had no choice,' Hermione added to it. 

It only made Dumbledore sigh. 'You always have.' He rose from his seat again, opened a cabinet to his left and took out some glasses. After drinking their stomachs full, Dumbledore sat down again as if satisfied. 'What is the reason for your foolish behavior? You say you had no choice; well, explain to me why not.'

'There is something at Hogwarts,' Harry began. 'Something that we must find.'

Dumbledore snorted. 'Let me guess; something my brother asked you to find? Wouldn't surprise me.'

'Why do you talk so low of him?' Draco interrupted, a suspicious look in his eyes.

'There are many reasons for that, boy… too many to even count on these old fingers.' A silence fell, as all of them seemed to try and figure out what those reasons were exactly; as they had always known their headmaster as a caring person — someone with a good heart. 'But you want to get into Hogwarts, you say? Well, I _can_ help you with that.'

Standing up again with a lot of effort — either from exhaustion or of old age — Dumbledore walked over to the portrait of the girl. He spoke to her in whispers, drawing Draco to the edge of his chair to hear what he was saying. But it was to no avail; they spoke too soft and swift to be heard. 'That is Ariana, isn't it?' Hermione then said, freezing Dumbledore's whispers. 'Your sister.'

Dumbledore turned around, his old eyes looking at Hermione with a weird look visible in them. Behind his back, the girl slowly sauntered away. 'Have you read about her?' Dumbledore asked in return, his eyes not leaving Hermione's. She nodded her curly head. 'Read it in that book?' His finger pointed at the book whom Draco had had in his hands only a few minutes ago. Hermione nodded again. 'It's rubbish!' he declared, walking over to it and throwing it onto the floor with a flick of his hand.

He then left the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving the others in wonder. 'Have I perhaps said something wrong?' Hermione asked, lowering herself a bit on her chair out of shame.

Draco rose from his seat now as well, picked up the book and placed it back onto the small table. 'I don't know,' he answered Hermione, for the others remained their quiet selves. His eyes then stared up at the portrait again; squinted at the sight of two black dots slowly coming into view. 'Is that—' he started, but the others had already joined him by his side.

A few moments later the portrait swung aside; revealing a dark tunnel behind a smiling Neville. A bruised eye. A broken nose. Crusts on his lips. 'Hello, guys!' he greeted them, and Draco swore he could see the slightest glimpse of tears at the sight of his friends.

'Neville!' Harry called out. 'What are you doing here?'

'Taking you to Hogwarts, of course,' he answered, still with a bright smile. 'Come one — the others will be out of their minds!'

'Others?' Ron asked, but Neville ignored his words — was already on his way again.

With a lot of effort they crawled into the portrait's hole, Draco behind again. Before he closed the portrait, he took another look at the door; saw how it was opened the tiniest bit. An eye colored a pale blue was staring in his direction from the darkness. 'Thank you,' Draco whispered to it, before closing the portrait and following the others.

The tunnel seemed to go on for at least a mile, and Draco's back started to hurt as he was too tall to walk through the darkness comfortably. It was uncomfortable for anyone, he then realized, looking at the others in front of them and hearing their sighing. An angel sang in his ears as a light appeared in front of his eyes; another portrait got swung aside. A buzz of voices followed, caught his ears and drew his attention. _The others._ Whom were the others exactly?

They entered a large room witch stone arches, no windows and a ceiling higher than the one of the Great Hall. Hammocks were spread across the place; bodies of students filling them. 'Guys!' Neville then shouted. 'Guess who I've brought with me!' All heads turned, their voices falling silent. With enlarged eyes, they stared at those whom had entered their secret place — a secret _hiding_ place by the looks of it.

'Harry! Hermione! Ron!' Voices shouted, picking up their earlier noise. No-one seemed to welcome Draco though, but he got a few glares to make up for it. Had they still not realized that he was nothing alike to his father? That he wasn't to be associated to the Dark Lord?

Feeling something clam take ahold of his hand; he looked up in the beaming face of Harry. He couldn't return the look, for as he felt unwelcome and uncomfortable at the same time. Could he please crawl back through that dark tunnel and go live with Dumbledore's brother, please? But of course he didn't actually want to — but it was always an option. 'They don't want me here,' he whispered to Harry, the others not hearing him over their own excited shouting. 

'If they want me to stay, they'll have to accept you as well,' the boy answered. He then turned to face the others, raised his chin a little and cleared his throat. 'First of all; thank you for sticking by our side,' he announced. Draco had caught words of that fact as well; how they had gone in against the new rules of Hogwarts, and had been hiding and preparing in secret for a battle once Harry would return. 'Secondly, I would like to ask for everyone to accept Draco of being on our side. He has proved multiple times that he belongs with _us_ ; not with You-Know-Who.'

'How can you be so sure of that? What exactly has he proven, then?' A boy, whom Draco vaguely recognized as someone whom had called him names before, took a step forward.

As Harry was about to comment on that matter, Hermione took a step forward of her own. 'By destroying this.' Salazar's locket swung from left to right in her hand; then fell still to get observed by a handful of eyes. 'It belongs to _him_ — had a part of _his_ soul in it — and Draco fought it, destroyed it,' she explained, making the boy clench his jaw and cast his eyes away.

The silence stayed as no-one seemed to comment on her words; seemed to believe and trust Hermione's opinion on the French boy. A heavy atmosphere got lifted from the room; left through the creaks in the ceiling to never return again. 'With that sorted,' Harry continued. 'I need your help.'

'Anything,' Ginny's voice declared as she came into view — her orange Weasley-hair as vibrant as ever. The others agreed with nodding heads, whispering the same word that had left the girl's lips.

'We're looking for an item — something special like the locket Hermione just showed you. Something that would've triggered _his_ interest.'

Whispers filled the room again as heads turned to another. Shoulders shrugged and heads were shook. Nobody seemed to know of an item interesting enough — or at least, interesting enough to Voldemort. Until… 'Rowena's lost diadem,' a small voice suggested.

Everyone grew quiet again, as they stared at Luna Lovegood standing in the back of the room. Her eyes seemed confused; as if she hadn't said anything at all and was wondering why everyone was looking at her. But of course she had said something, and it had drawn Harry's attention. 'A diadem?'

'Yes,' another voice now added. Cho Chang came into the picture — still making a certain feeling of jealousy and anger well up inside of Draco's chest. 'It belonged to the founder of Ravenclaw. But it's lost, Luna. No-one has seen in it years.'

A few other Ravenclaws agreed with Cho's words, and even Luna seemed to sigh in agreement. _A diadem_ , Draco then thought to himself. _Haven't I seen a diadem at this school before?_ Memories flashed in front of his eyes as he searched his mental library; searched for the glimpse of a sapphire he could vaguely recall. _Where_ had he seen it? _When_ had he seen it? Whispers and discussions continued around him as others suggested a numerous amount of insignificant items; one more vague than the other. Draco tried to block all those words out of his head while his mind still searched for that diadem — the diadem he had seen… next to the vanishing cabinet! He could almost scream, shout of suddenly recalling where he had seen the piece of jewelry. His eyes brightened, grew wider as he took ahold of Harry's sleeve. 'I know where it is!'

Harry gave him a confused look in return. 'Where what is?'

'The diadem!'

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

‘I can see it!’ A finger pointing at a pile of items — a blue sapphire gleaming from afar like an eye winking at its lover.

They had finally made it to the Room of Requirement after what had felt like hours to get there. Running into Snape, explaining things to McGonagall, nearly fighting with every Slytherin student there was and hearing the message Voldemort had announced with his snake-like voice. He wanted Harry. He only wanted him, and didn't want to fight — but of course no-one had been willing to let Harry surrender himself to safe their own lives. Even if Draco had to carry that burden alone — the burden of protecting Harry and keeping him from surrendering himself to that monster hiding the Forbidden Forest — then still, he would rather die himself than see the green-eyed boy die.

There were enough friends, other students and professors that would help him with that task though, and while they prepared for what would be the second Wizarding War; Draco and Harry had ran off to the seventh floor to go find the diadem they needed in order to end the new War as soon as possible.

Draco was afraid, he couldn't deny. Afraid of what was about to come. Afraid of the people he might lose. Afraid of the castle getting destroyed with a single flick of Voldemort's wand. He was afraid Harry would surrender himself anyway. But he didn't have time to be afraid, and therefore he had set foot after foot to help Harry in his search.

Harry's eyes caught a glimpse of the diadem now as well, and the boy immediately stormed towards the pile as if unwilling to lose a second longer. But a voice stopped his feet.

‘Harry Potter,’ the voice said. ‘And Draco Malfoy as well, I see.’

Blond and black turned as they faced the owner of a voice they recognized all too well. Behind their back stood Castor Idel, two other students flanking him. Three wands were raised like angrily pointed fingers — their eyes piercing into theirs. Their feet took one step closer; entering the bit of light shining in from above. The ray fell over Castor's face and made Draco take a step back while he tried not to get sick. Castor’s face was mutilated, as if a giant flame had licked his cheek. Burned. _Cursed_. ‘Castor,’ Draco managed to get over his lips. It was more of shock of what they had done to him, then of shock of him being there.

'Shut your mouth you filthy betrayer!' Called the boy's response. Pure hate was readable in the boy's eyes like a fire that was unwilling to be extinguished. He noticed Draco staring at his burn wounds; at his face that had once been as pale and porcelain-like as that of Draco himself. 'Take a good look indeed, to what _you_ made the Dark Lord do,' he spat, showing teeth and making the fire in his eyes burn even brighter. Castor clenched his jaw out of anger, slowly turning red as his complexion was no match to the emotion. 'Thanks to you I've been neglected as a Death Eater. My father was furious. If the Dark Lord hadn't punished me, I'm sure he would've!'

Draco couldn't help but feel the slightest guilt well up in his stomach, but at the same time he knew it wasn't his fault. He had never done anything wrong but help Castor with something that had been his job _alone_ to do. He had never spilled a thing about it to Voldemort — Snape had been the person to blame for that act. Neither could he help to feel a certain sympathy, as he as well had once been under the towering, demanding figure of his father — but that was no more. The only person he would listen to, he would obey now would be Harry. Would be the _good_ side. Straightening his back a little and raising his chin, Draco tried to stand tall opposite three raised wands. 'Sad you were thrown out of your little club?' he hissed back, finding his _own_ inner anger and confidence. 

Castor took another step forward, trying to get closer to the pair in front of him and shrouding his face in darkness again. The outlines of his burn-wounds stayed printed on Draco's retina for a second longer before his face slowly became visible again in the faint blue light of the room. 'He promised to take me back, to make me part of what I was part of before. A greater purpose, a great cause.' The grip of Castor's hand tightened around his wand; ready to cast a spell any second now. Slowly, Draco lowered his own arm bit by bit, trying to let his own wand slide from his left sleeve. 'Only thing I have to do is to stop you — find the Chosen One.' His eyes moved from Draco's Harry now, as if he had only just realized that the Chosen One was in this very room as well — even though he had called his name first.

'I won't let you take him, Castor,' Draco reacted. 'I'm no longer on your side.'

A laugh. One that was painfully sharp and rang in Draco's ears like a false tune. Castor's smile was crooked by numbness of his burn-wounds, which only added to the mentally-insane aspect of the boy. 'As if I believe you ever were.'

A spell. One casted at Draco but blocked just in time. His wand slid down from his sleeve, into the palm of his hand and pointed at the blond to defend himself just in time. A body thrown into the air, landing on its feet with a look of pure hate once again in its eyes. The other two students were frozen; looking over their shoulders at their friend while holding their wands with a shaky grip. Draco could cast a simply _expelliarmus_ and claim both wands as his — but he was too occupied to look over his own shoulder; at Harry whom stood frozen as well. With no wand at hand. 'Where's your wand?' he asked, throwing him a confused look.

'I broke it — totally forgot.' A look of panic was visible in Harry's eyes.

Thinking quickly, Draco pointed his wand in front of him, ready to counter any upcoming curses while slowly making his way to Harry. Castor had managed to crawl up to his feet again after untangling the invisible ropes Draco had tied around him with his counter spell. He looked furious still, and was slowly but surely making his way to them again. 'You get the diadem while I distract them', Draco proposed in whispers, glancing over his shoulder to see the same panicked look still reflected in green eyes.

'No, I won't leave you alone,' Harry protested, but Draco's looks commanded him to go — and so he went.

Footsteps resounded behind his back, running away towards the pile with its brightly shining sapphire atop. New curses were followed immediately; blasted at Draco from the tip of Castor's wand. Even his dimwitted friends had found enough courage to cast some hexes and jinxes of their own. The enemy wasn't very keen on seeing its prey run off, apparently. 'Stop him!'

With his wrist twisting in every direction possible, and his wand swinging from left to right, Draco tried to block three curses at the same time while trying not to trip over the various items the room held. Colors of the rainbow collided and sent off sparks brighter than any night's sky. Draco blocked an orange-colored curse and sent it off towards the ceiling, and to his surprise it came back down to transform into a giant snake of fire. _Not what I expected…_ It unfolded in front of his eyes, grew bigger and scarier by the second as it towered above their figures — then above all the large piles that surrounded them. Draco's eyes found Castor's, whom faced the fire with a fear in his eyes Draco for once could understand.

And he was running again. A returning theme, as one might remember. The snake of fire had stopped the others in their blasting as one of them was frozen, the others slightly confused. It had created a barrier between them and the French, and it was the perfect way for Draco to run off as fast as his legs could take him. Hiding behind a pile of stuff, he waited for them to round the corner as well as soon as curse of the fiery snake had ended — so he could hex them all at once and blast their figures into Wizarding space.

 

_Harry_

 

‘ _Courez_!’

Blue in the palm of his hand, accompanied by shining silver. Snake-like hissing and whispers; demanding him to put its physical form down. The voice came from behind him, somewhere in the distance. It was too faint to draw his attention, so Harry continued to look at the shining item in his hand. The diadem was simply mesmerizing and seemed to enchant him bit by bit. Why did Voldemort have to choose such beautiful items, he wondered. It was simply sorrowful to destroy them.

‘ _Courez_ , Harry!’ It sounded again.

This time it reached Harry's ears, and the boy quickly turned his head around to see Draco come running from behind a large pile. 'What's wrong?' he wanted to ask, but the words didn't even leave his lips. Behind his lover a giant flame rose, licking his heels and hissing fire in the form of a snake. 

Without hesitating for a moment longer, Harry jumped off the pile, stumbling his way down and knocking hundreds of items down to the floor. Joining Draco in his running, he held on tight to the diadem. They both didn't dare to look over their shoulders, but could feel the glow of nearing heat as if hell was trying to swallow them alive. The end of the room was near; the stone wall on the other side greeting them like an awaiting Grim Reaper. Harry glanced at Draco whom had a terrified look in his eyes; a look that didn't leave themas they both ran into that exact wall with their chests raising at the fast rhythm of their hearts. The snake was nearing, the heat almost unbearable. Harry looked around the room, trying to find a place to hide while Draco held his wand in front of him with a shaking grip; watching the snake set another pile of items in flames.

Twines. Bristles. _Broomsticks_. Harry spotted them at the bottom of a pile to his right. ‘Come on!’ he shouted, pulling Draco along by his thin wrist. They escaped the fire just in time as they snatched the first broom they saw, swung their legs over the wood and flew off towards the ceiling — the only place safe from the sea of orange.

But they weren't safe just yet as the fire-serpent was rising, growing. They tried to get to the other side of the room, but it almost felt like doing parkour in the air as they had to avoid burning piles and hissed flames. They were almost there, could see the large door on the other side when Harry's eyes spot Castor on top of one of the piles; holding on to what seemed to be an old chair while keeping his eyes tightly shut. 'We must save him,' Harry heard Draco say, shout at him.

Harry didn't know why his lover had said such a thing; the French detested Castor. Yet he felt like there was no way in convincing Draco to leave the other blond behind — and therefore they looped around the pile while Draco desperately tried to take Castor's hand in his.

Two pale hands of opposite sides — reaching for each other in despair.

The snake only came closer as seconds passed, swallowing the pile from underneath Castor's feet. It was upset. Angry. A curse gone wrong. Hands met as Draco finally managed to pull Castor onto his broom, and they quickly soared towards the door to let Draco's wand bombard it to bricks. A hard landing followed as they hit the stone tiles of the seventh floor hallway, Draco doing a kind of weird tumble to get up to his feet again — wand raised at the opening to close it with the most determined look on his porcelain face Harry had ever seen — closing the space he had just created.

Darkness. Coldness. Ears were held in silence again.

Castor coughed, and harry swore he could hear a faint 'thanks' hidden in it somewhere. Draco seemed to ignore it though; his hands placed on his knees while taking deep breaths. 'Draco?'

The blond's eyes took a moment before turning themselves to Harry, unfocused and tired. ' _Oui?_ '

‘Nothing,’ Harry answered. Draco reached out a hand to Harry, helped him stand again with a raised heartbeat of his own. Castor could help himself — and sod off to wherever he wanted to.

But he didn’t. Castor stayed on the ground, and seemed to be in a state of shock. Staring at the wall in front of him, his eyes appeared blank. His mind must've exploded, Harry thought to himself. Not only had the boy faced his biggest fear was again — he had lost two of his friends in a situation he had created himself. _Should we help him?_

‘Just leave him,’ Draco said. His tone had drastically changed from when he had suggested to go save the very boy. He now seemed to pick up his previous rivalry again as if he had never been friendly to the Slytherin before. Pulling Harry’s sleeve a bit, he slowly started walking away. ‘You got the diadem?’ he asked as they turned a corner.

'Of course,' Harry replied, handing the shining piece of jewelry to Draco with a weak smile. 'We must go find Hermione immediately, she had the sword.' Draco nodded to his words, his eyes not even looking at the beautiful item in his hands. His gaze was casted through the arched window; staring at the heavy defense spells that were being casted around the castle — towards the skies and making every pastel color imaginable appear between the stars. It felt like they were trapped inside a large bubble, and it reminded Harry of a childhood he never had. Of a toy other kids played with and he never got to.

Wizards were readying themselves for an upcoming battle, and Harry knew Draco was hungry to help along. 'You want to go help them?' he asked.

The blond's grey eyes met green as he turned his head. 'I believe so,' he admitted, as if it was something he was afraid of answering.

'Then go,' Harry told him. 'I'll come find you once I've found Hermione. Once another horcrux has been destroyed.' He took the diadem from Draco's hand, softly brushing his fingers against his. Forever would he wonder how the French's hand could stay so cool while his were always so sweaty and warm. They were opposites, he was once reminded, yet had so many things in common as well.

'You promise?'

'Promise what?'

'To come find me again?' Draco's eyes were set worried, the specks of blue they held more vibrant than Harry had ever seen them appear. He took a step forward to place a hand on Harry's cheek, as soft and loving gesture.

'I promise,' Harry replied with a smile, but a feeling inside his chest, inside his _heart_ told him it was a lie. Yet he didn't quite know why. Draco returned the smile, though hesitant and slightly wary.

The French turned left, while Harry turned right. And they were separated again — breaking their earlier promise to never leave one's side anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope there's still someone interested in reading how this story continues? :/) Anyway, I still enjoy writing it, though updates are slow as usual (sorry). I believe there will only be one more chapters left after this one, and then Papillon will officially be finished. I already want to thank those of you whom stuck around for so long, it truly warms my heart! 
> 
> My plans are to perhaps finish Draconis Nox afterwards and upload a new story I'm working on (not going to spoil anything though).


	12. La fin

 

**_C H A P T E R 2 2_ **

_Harry_

_Another horcrux had been destroyed. Another battle was being fought. He had joined the others as fast as he could, stealing a wand from the first unconscious corpse he had been greeted with. Raising the unfamiliar piece of wood, he had been just in time to save his best friend from getting hit by the curse of death. The green light had opened his eyes faster than any bucket of water in the morning could ever do._

_It wasn’t easy to fight, especially when you were the number one target in the enemy’s eyes._

_As soon as Harry appeared in their view, they neglected their opponent to shoot a curse at him instead of the innocent student in front of them. Harry had been smart, had decided to use that distraction to let others blast curses at the Death Eaters’ backs — and shortly enough they had gathered a whole pile of defeated dark wizards._

_A pause had been called, and as Harry had listened to Voldemort's repeated demands, he had followed his friends whom had carried one of the Patil sisters towards the Great Hall — her unconscious body in their arms, defeated and making Harry's heart sink a little further. There, in the Hall where he had once celebrated feasts with the brightest smile upon his face, he had been greeted with a scene he’d never wanted to see. So many sacrifices had been made. For him. To protect him. A beating, red heart hadn’t been able to sink any lower. It had stayed there, and had made Harry numb. The lifeless bodies of Lupin and Tonks — peaceful and with their hands locked, but dead. Another stab. Harry's mind immediately had thought about Teddy Lupin; now in the same situation as he himself had been all his life._

_He had to go. He had to obey Voldemort's words in order to stop innocents from dying. To stop the people he loved so dearly from getting hurt any further. Too many sacrifices had already been made. Too many things had already been destroyed._

_And so he had gone._

_Knees had been shaking as he had entered the Forbidden Forest. He had been scared, yet confident. There was no way back, he had known that — yet he hadn't been able to help but wonder what it would feel like to die._

_A bright white light. It had greeted him like a warm hug of a friend. He'd got transported to another place; one he knew to be King's Cross. A train station? A few steps forward, looking at his bare feet on white tiles. He had sat himself down on one of the benches, had waited for something to happen without knowing what exactly._

_Time hadn't seemed to exist where he'd been, so it had been hard to tell when exactly professor Dumbledore had appeared in the picture. Dressed in white robes, matching with his bread, he had sat himself down next to Harry. As if the gesture had been a kind of trigger, the weeping of a child had followed as well — coming from underneath the very bench they'd been seated on. Harry'd peeked underneath it; had seen the body of Voldemort as he had seen it in fourth year — small, fragile, weak. 'There's nothing you can do for him, Harry,' Dumbledore had said. 'I know it looks helpless — and that's because it is. And it supposed to be.'_

_‘I was another one, wasn’t I?’ Harry had replied, looking into Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes. ‘I was another horcrux.’ A smile had appeared on Dumbledore’s face, but the man had remained silent. ‘What do I do now?’_

_A shrug had followed, the old man's shoulder slowly lifting with the rhythm of his heart. ‘That is up to you, Harry. Only you can decide.’_

_‘I don’t want to die yet — I’m not ready.’ The words had escaped his mouth without even thinking about them. And they had been true; he still had a whole life left to live with Draco — with his friends. He still wanted to see the many things the world had to offer. He wanted to grow as old as Dumbledore or Nicolas Flannel before dyeing. No, he hadn't been ready yet — and both his heart as soul had known._

_Another smile had been given to him by his headmaster, before his head had started spinning and he had been brought back to life. A darkness had greeted him. The scent of pine. He had heard the crunching of branches next to his face, and cautious he had kept his eyes tightly shut. A presence had come closer, a hand had hesitantly been placed on his shoulder. ‘Is Draco still alive?’ The words had been said so silently, they'd been almost inaudible for Harry to hear. But he'd heard them nontheless, and with the smallest shake of his head — he'd told Draco’s mother that her son was still alive._

_The hand had left. The same voice had announced — loud and clear this time — that Harry Potter was dead._

 

_Draco_

 

Curses had been fired. He had protected the ones he knew as much as he could. Victims had fallen — young wizards and witches giving their lives for one single boy. It had made tears well up in his eyes, but it had also made a fire burn brighter in his heart. He had used his wand in a way he had never used before — casting spells he had never tried before. One Death Eater after the other fell to their knees in front of him, were thrown into the air or were blasted through windows — glass shattering in front of his eyes into a million pieces.

It had been terrible, to see blood wherever he placed his feet. To see the whites of ones eyes as they stared into a void of dreams that weren’t there. Shouting, screaming, crying. His ears were deaf. His eyes were blind. He only focused on the ones in front of him — the men, the enemy that had broke trough the walls created by the greatest wizards combined.

Harry hadn’t returned, but Draco knew he was fighting somewhere himself — he had to be. _He’s probably saving as many people as he can as well,_ Draco thought as he hurried himself over to a girl whom seemed to be losing to an Acromantula. A single powerful curse was enough to silent the creature for good, and the first-year gave Draco a thankful look.

The battle got reinforced soon enough, as graduate students flew in on broomsticks and even inhabitants from Hogsmeade arrived at the gates of the school. Wands raised, ready to fight. Draco almost felt like fainting when he spotted Abraxan horses fly above his head, land with students dressed in blue on their backs. Beauxbatons had come to join — had come to defend the school they had called their own for a year. With a hand behind their back and their chins raised; it appeared as if they were competing for most elegant dueling skills instead of fighting a severe battle — a War.

It was soon enough though that their blue, silk robes got stained with blood and dirt. Their hats fell off, their hair loose. The twins were staying close to Draco’s side, blasting curses together with him — joining their power. They looked older as well all of the sudden — as if they had aged with ten years since Draco had last seen them. The tears he had felt coming before he felt again — but he swallowed them away and kept his mind focused.

Silence. A pause. The Death Eaters and dark creatures left and crawled back to where they had come from. Everyone started dragging bodies of the injured and the death towards the Great Hall, Draco joining as well by supporting Luna as she tried to move forward with a broken ankle. The twins were ahead of him, in their arms the lifeless body of a small boy. He could see tears on Ansel’s face; could hear him mourn a boy whom he had never met before. A boy from a different school. A different country.

They entered the Great Hall, and were greeted with a mix of hesitant smiles and the sound of weeping. He could see a few of the Weasleys hunched over two bodies; lifeless like the body of the small boy. As he neared, his heart almost stopped beating. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks had peaceful expressions on their faces — _too_ peaceful. He felt a hand on his shoulder, looked into the face of Hermione Granger. She was crying. And he couldn’t help but cry as well. Finally giving in to the tears that had wanted to escape already so many times.

Another orphan. Another son losing its parents to a war.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

‘Have you seen Harry?’ They had seated themselves on one of the benches after helping a few of the injured students with healing their wounds. They were both exhausted after producing so many difficult spells from their souls, and had allowed themselves to rest for a few minutes.

Hermione gave Draco a strange look. ‘Of course, he was here when you entered the Hall. Didn’t you see him?’

Confused, Draco shook his head. ‘ _Non_ , I didn’t.’

‘He was kind of... shocked,’ Hermione then admitted with a sigh. ‘Wasn’t in here for long — left within minutes.’

‘To where?’

A shake of her head. ‘I don’t know, Draco.’

Panic overcame the French as he realized where Harry had gone. He hadn't even had to ask Hermione. It was obvious, and he could read in Hermione's eyes that she knew, or at least suspected, the same. 'I must stop him.' He bolted from the bench, ready to storm to the Forbidden Forest and protect his dear Harry, his lover, until the very end. But Hermione grabbed his arm, pulled him back and refused to let go. His heroic, fairytale-like mission shattered to pieces.

'Draco.'

' _Non! Laissez-moi!_ He can't surrender himself!' He tried to free his arm from her grip, but it was stronger than he'd ever expect it to be. Hermione's eyes were set with determination.

'Neither can you, Draco!' Her voice raised, drawing the attention of a few others in the Hall. 'Calm down!' She now shook his arm, which resulting in shaking Draco's entire figure. 'There's nothing you can do. You must trust Harry in his decision.' Her words radiated confidence, but worry and doubt were readable in her eyes. She didn't know what Harry was doing, and all she could hope for was that it was the right decision. Which it obviously wasn't. 

Draco had to bite his lip to hold in a sob — his heart beating too fast and his soul ready to burst out into cries. He slumped back onto the bench, his face in his hands as Hermione finally let go. She wrapped and arm around his shoulders, her head of curls close to Draco's face. ' _Pourquoi_ …' Draco whispered, more to himself and to his mind as he tried to understand _why_ Harry had gone to fight Voldemort by himself. Didn't he trust the others? Did he have no faith at all that there might be a possibly that the good side would win this battle, this war? Draco shook his head. No, he just didn't want to see anyone else die. He had enough of it. He had enough of being the Chosen One — the one that was supposed to be the one to survive while others surrendered themselves for him.

And now he was doing to same, only for himself. He was surrendering himself so others didn't have to do it, and Draco couldn't help but feel a warm glow inside his chest at the thought. Pride. Between the feelings of worry, anger, sadness he felt proud of Harry for wanting to safe so many lives. _He and his bravery,_ Draco thought to himself. _At least he'll die as the brave Gryffindor he is and always will be._

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

They had heard them coming — a nearing evil that wasn’t to be denied. Walking outside, onto the square. Draco had bolted from the bench again, this time with Hermione immediately following by his side. He was lingering behind; unable to force himself through the crowd that wanted to go see what was going on — wether evil had returned and wether they had to fight again. Draco held on to his wand; ready to start defending himself again if necessary, and he saw others do the same. Everyone was wary, and they were right to do so. As people moved aside, and he finally was able to reach the front of the crowd, he almost fainted for the second time that day. In the distance Voldemort was nearing, with behind him Hagrid cuffed and towering above the monster. A sad look that only could be caused by heartbreak was visible on his large face, his cheeks wet and tears continuing to fall. In his arms, a body with its arms and legs swinging as if all life had been drained from them.

A hesitant step. A look of confusion and disbelief. They neared. They laughed. They shouted. Something that was a lie. Something that _had_ to be a lie!

‘Harry Potter is dead!’

The words were like a stab through his heart, his soul, his whole figure. He felt his knees weaken as he bolted forward — wanted to meet a Harry that was no more. But his knees gave in, made him fall to the ground. ‘No!’ he heard escape his mouth, but it didn’t sound like himself. It was a sound that could cut through stone. That made shivers run everyone's spine. His wand rolled out of his hand, got neglected somewhere between the mess the battle had left behind.

It felt as if his body got split into two. As if his scars were ripped open again and warm, dark blood was seeping out. He tried to breathe, but his lungs protested. He tried to understand, but his mind was failing. His eyes saw the truth; they saw the lifeless body of his lover held in the arms of a man. His face set peaceful. His eyes closed.

Footsteps neared, but Draco's head was spinning and he didn't feel so well. Voldemort stopped in front of him, looked down upon his helpless figure with an almost cheerful look in his eyes. ‘Stay away from him!’ Draco heard behind his back. He didn’t look to see whom had said it, nor who grabbed him by his robes and pulled him away from the monster in front of him. It could’ve been Hermione. It could’ve been the twins. He truly didn’t know. 

A laugh. Voldemort had simply laughed at the scene that was unfolding in front of his eyes. People were crying; mourning the death of one they had defended so greatly. _It had been for nothing_ , Voldemort told them. _He’s dead now_. Laughing of hundreds of Death Eaters followed. A grim atmosphere. Draco's mind a blank canvas as he crawled up again, still shaking and wobbling on his feet. Another leap forwards — hands holding him back as a flurry of desperate aggression overcame him. _I have to get Harry away from that monster. I have to try to wake him up!_

‘Draco,’ a voice then said. His muscles relaxed. A vague feeling of composure overcame him. He lifted his head, lifted his eyes, but the calm feeling turned into fury as he saw whom it was that had called his name. His father stood on the other side of scene, behind Voldemort with his arms opened wide — ready to have his son returned to him and welcome back with a smile. 'Come, Draco.' A gesture, meant to be inviting and loving but turning into a triggering factor. His mother standing beside him, a look of worry on her face.

‘You’re wrong!’ Was all Draco managed to get out. They were on the wrong side. They had and always would be.

The blonds seemed to freeze at their son’s words, their eyes searching for their Lord. Voldemort had followed the conversation with a straight face, now glanced from his loyal followers to Draco and back. ‘Dear boy, and I whom thought you had truly joined our side,’ his hoarse voice reacted. ‘Your power, it could be used for something great. You could become the most powerful wizard of your age.’

The words were meant to seduce him, he know. To perhaps trigger the side of him that had once been brought forward by the locket. Voldemort wanted Draco on his side again, but Draco would never let him be convinced of anything greater than what he already had. Being treated in Voldemort's ears meant being evil, murder, a ruler everyone feared. Draco didn't want to be feared; he wanted to be loved. He wanted to tell Voldemort this, he wanted to shout those words at him but his mind failed, his mouth unable to form words.

‘What a shame we had to kill your lover, Draco.’ Walking over to Harry’s body and stretching out a hand, Draco escaped the hands of his friends again — bolted in the wizard’s direction.

‘ _Ne le touche pas!_ ’ It escaped his lips before he had known, had come out in French without realizing. It tired him. Exhausted him. 

‘So many words—,’ Voldemort turned around again, pulling his hand back. ‘—said in an unwanted language.’

Draco clenched his jaw, wanted to grab his wand but noticed it was still a few feet away from him; still laid deserted between the remainders of a castle’s pillar. He swallowed, felt lost for just a second before realizing he didn’t need a wand to defend himself. If he wanted to, he could use the magic of his soul.

A curse got fired at him; a flash of red that he had expected yet hadn’t at the same time. It hit him with a crack, as if the sky had opened up for thunder. He fell to his knees again, screamed as the effect of the Cruciatus Curse slowly started to swallow his body. Immersed in water of pain. He fought against it, and could feel it go away — slowly. _Very_ slowly. But it was fading, and that was all that mattered. His battle with the unforgivable seemed to last forever, but it eventually left —and by the look on Voldemort’s face it wasn't the monster's doing.

He had stopped it. He had stopped one of the three unforgivable curses without using a wand. He had stopped it by pure will.

A fury rose to his head before it started spinning of exhaustion, his body having to lay itself down in order to stay wake. In those moments he heard Voldemort say something — laugh again — but on his face was still readable that he was confused by what Draco had done. That he felt defeated, somehow. Or weaker than he had done before.

New words were formed, but they were too vague for Draco to hear nor understand. He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again he saw a snake pass by his figure. A kind of hue appeared in his view as if he was focusing on something through a vizor. He heard the snake hiss like the horcruxes had done, and it suddenly hit him that it had to be the snake. The snake was another horcrux.

Draco would've cheered at his discovery if he hadn't felt so weak. Now, he laid emotionless and near-lifeless on the cold pebbles, his eyes searching for his wand of which he didn't know the position anymore. It was nowhere to be seen, and he was too weak to perform another spell without one.

A big black blob. A piece of dark fabric. Draco had no idea where it had come from, but it had appeared in front of his eyes as if it had always been there. And inside, something shining silver and red. Emeralds. It was the sword of Gryffindor that had appeared; ready to be taken and to be slain. What was the sword doing here, amidst the remains of a battlefield when it should be in Hermione's purse, Draco wondered. But he didn't wonder for too long, saw it as an opportunity and a leap of faith.

Keeping his eyes on Voldemort; watching how he spoke to everyone in words that still wouldn’t enter his brain — he slowly grabbed for the sword's handle. The snake stayed near him, but had its hungry eyes set on first-years rather than the French to its left, whom he was supposed to guard. The sword, clenched in his hands and drawn out of the hat as easily as if it didn’t weigh as much as it did. Pushing himself up on a knee, letting his body fall forward again while soaring the sword through the air.

The snake was killed. Split into two.

Blood seeped over the pebbles as a weird sound escaped Voldemort’s soul. He grabbed for his chest, his heart, as if he was tearing apart from the inside. _I was right_ , Draco thought to himself. _It was a horcrux._

Another movement followed; another one that no-one had expected. Harry’s lifeless body moved again — left Hagrid’s arms as if he had known Draco would perform the perfect distraction. Draco saw his lover race a few feet, fall to his knees to pick up a wand he recognized immediately. A curse of green; fired at the boy straight away. And Harry, defending himself with Draco’s wand.

Red against green. Draco rose to his feet as if given a boost of energy, his knees trembling but his mind keeping him focused on the green-eyes boy as he fought like he had never fought before. Harry was alive, Draco realized. Harry wasn't dead. His heart seemed to beat even faster than it had done before, and confused Draco stumbled a bit backwards. Hermione and Ron stood beside him on one side, a look of disbelief in their eyes. The wins on the other side with the same look. Everyone was staring at the battle in front of them; a battle between the two most powerful wizard to currently exist in this world.

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

‘It’s over.’

The monster they had feared for so many years had finally been defeated. Tom Riddle and whatever had been left of him was gone — for forever. A quiet sort of feeling overcame the boys as they stood there; their eyes casted at the remainder of ashes that once held such powerful, strong magic. Harry still had Draco’s wand clenched in his hand; the wood looking even more worn off then before. He definitely would have to get it fixed, or simply purchase a new one.

There were no cheers, for there was nothing to celebrate. Of course, one could celebrate Voldemort's defeat but there were too many victims that needed to be mourned first. 

Slowly the spot of the final battle was being cleared, moved back to the Hall to help those whom still needed help. Others started to wander the hallways again, in search of ones they’d lost — ones they couldn’t find and feared of being death.

Ron wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulder, guided her away to the Hall as well. After a while only Harry and Draco were left, standing side by side. Grey eyes glanced at Harry beside him; still holding on to Draco's wand as if he would have to raise it any second again. It wasn't going to be necessary, Draco knew, as the monster was finally defeated and the Death Eaters had fled. He placed his hand over Harry's, the gesture making the boy turn his face. Green met grey. A small smile, hesitant and close to a grimace but not quite yet. The wood left the boy's grip; warm and clam like Draco knew Harry's hands to be. He tucked the wand away in the pocket of his trousers; their light grey color looking black because of the dirt and blood — his jumper the same.

‘Never do that to me again,’ Draco said to Harry. His voice sounded weird — out of place in the silence.

The corner of Harry’s mouth lifted slightly. ‘I apologize for that — it was the only way.’

‘ _Je sais._ Still I’d love to know beforehand.’

‘I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go.’

Harry eyes’s — his ever so green eyes that had been the beginning of the entire adventure — looked into Draco’s again. And Draco nodded his head. ‘You’re absolutely right about that.’

A smile. Teeth flashing bright. One of Harry’s glasses was cracked again. Smudges of dirt and specks of dust. Draco slowly entwined his fingers with Harry, and wouldn’t be willing to let go any time soon.

 

 _☾ *:･ﾟ✧ **E  P  I  L  O  G  U**_ _**E**     ☾ *:･ﾟ✧_

 

‘Higher!’ A man dressed in blue from head to toe, marching from one way of a field to the other with his hands in his sides. A golden wand with a bright green emerald at its end sticking out of his trousers’ pocket. A beret on his head. Silver locks peeking from underneath the wool. ‘Higher, Louis! Four meters above the ground it not nearly enough to achieve those Quiddich dreams of yours!’ His voice was strict yet righteous — scary to a few yet a trust radiating from it as well.

‘Don’t be so harsh on them.’ Another man came into view. Hair like a bird’s nest, dressed in the most awful robes one could wear in the French Pyrenees. ‘He’s only a first year and you’re training him as if he’s Krum competing for the World Championship.’

‘Shut your mouth, monsieur Potter. Don’t you have a DADA class to give?’

‘What about charms for you?’

‘I’ve got an hour or so to spare after flying class.’

The tight line that had been the blond’s mouth slowly transformed into that of a smirk. It was so faint that Harry had to squint his eyes in order to notice it. But he had seen it, and with an equal little smile he crossed his arms before striding back towards the castle.

Beauxbatons had greeted him back like a home — though it would never feel or be the same for Harry as Hogwarts. They had considered both schools; but in the end Draco had found it hard to give in. And Harry, as usual, couldn’t help but go along with the plans of his lover.

Already seven years had passed since the battle, and quite a lot had happened since. They had attended Ron and Hermione’s wedding — where Draco had declared to be awaiting a proposal from Harry after catching Hermione’s bouquet the Muggle way — and witnessed the birth of their first child Rose. Harry had gladly accepted the role as the baby girl’s godfather, and now had two children under his wings to love. Teddy visited France every month for a week — stayed with Andromeda for the rest of the time. It was always nice to have him over, and though Harry had been worried Draco wasn’t the kind of person to like small children at all — the blond had happened to fall completely in love with the teal-haired boy.

Draco mainly taught Charms and gave flying lessons a few times a week while Harry gave DADA class and helped the Quidditch teams prepare for matches. He was also the refugee, and often brought a lot of outsiders onto the school grounds to let them watch the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice blow a whistle at every mistake a bunch of French students made.

But his fame wasn’t as big of a problem in France as it had been in England — which had also been a part of their decision to move away. In London every Wizard or Witch would recognize him immediately. They almost couldn’t go anywhere without anyone wanting an autograph or picture with the famous wizards — _yes_ , Draco was quite the celebrity as well. In France however, Harry didn’t get as much attention at all and could enjoy his time without being stopped every other second.

They stayed in one of the many towers the castle of Beauxbatons held; a place where they were close to their work and far away enough to live their private lives. During holidays they would either visit Draco’s mother at their country side cottage or stay at Ron and Hermione’s home in England. It was quite the life they were living, and they were enjoying every second of it.

‘Please tell me this all isn’t still a dream?’ They had retreated to their little space; Draco sprawled on top of their four-poster bed wrapped in what seemed six blankets and Harry standing beside it, buttoning his robes again.

‘I can assure you that it isn’t — though I question the same thing a lot as well,’ he answered. Of course it often felt like a dream; was anyone supposed to be this happy? But then the raven-haired boy remembered all he had been through in the past years, and decided that he truly deserved to be as happy as he was. Draco smiled, gestured for Harry to lay down on the bed again. ‘I can’t, I only have five minutes left to make it to class — and it’s on the other side of the castle.’

A pout. A turn with his back towards Harry. The man rolled his eyes; he was just playing his ‘annoyed’ game again — the one he played whenever Harry was’t obeying his words.

‘However, if you do decide to turn around again, you might want to check what I’m leaving behind—,’ he took a little box from his robes’ pocket, placed it on the small table next to the door ,’—right here.’ A feeling of nervosity sank from his heart to his shoes, and without waiting a moment longer, he opened the door and slipped away. 

 

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

 

DADA classes were taught in the West Wing of the castle; in a classroom Harry had made his own. The skeleton of a giant bird hung over his students their heads. To their left they could find a collection of golden snitches. To their right piles of books Draco had recommended Harry to keep there must they ever come in handy in his classes — they hadn’t yet, but who knew what the future would bring. His desk at the front was a mix of ungraded homework, peculiar items he wanted to show his students and a framed photograph of Draco — the picture Fleur Delacour had given him at Burrow a few years earlier. Young Draco still smiled brightly as if laughing at a stupid joke, and it reminded Harry of how much he truly loved the stubborn French to death.

His classes were taught in a mix of English and French. The books were in the students their mother language while Harry spoke to them in his; it was the perfect exercise to practice their English. Besides, Harry had learnt quite some French himself over the past years and could perfectly understand what his students were saying — however, Draco forever forbade him to talk the language, saying that his accent could cause people to go death.

He was just showing off how to use _Expelliarmus_ as one of the most useful spells in duels when the door to his classroom swung open and banged against the door. Everyone’s head turned to see a shocked blond man stand in its opening. Draco was wearing a brighter smile then ever, his blue robes put on in a hurry and his hair just as big of a mess as Harry’s always was. ‘Draco?’ Harry gave him a confused look, but the blond didn’t even seem to hear him.

‘ _Oui_ ,’ was all he said.

It took a moment for Harry to let that word sink in. To let the meaning sink in. His mind hadn’t registered the fact that Draco was holding the tiny golden box in his hands — and it was only when his students pointed it out that he understood what Draco was trying to say. ‘ _Il dit_ oui _, professeur Potter_ ,’ one student began, followed by others whom pointed at the shining new piece of jewelry around Draco’s ring finger. They said it in an irritated, hysterical way in which only the French could try to clear something up. Their hands in the air, fingers pointing at Draco and looking at Harry as if he was the most stupid person they'd ever seen.

'Does… does that mean _I do_?' he hesitantly asked, his eyes fixated on Draco again.

The students slammed their hands to their faces in drama, once again wondering why this piece of _stupide_ had ever been able to defeat the darkest wizard to have ever lived. 'Yes,' Draco answered, as if truly worried as well Harry had lost all his French vocabulary in less than a second.But he hadn't, and a bright smile now spread across his face.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wipes away tear* It's over... It's the end... I'm a bit sad, not going to lie. I truly enjoyed writing my French!Draco and everything Beauxbatons themed. Perhaps I should something similar but Durmstrang style, haha? Or just move the whole thing to Beauxbatons, what about that? I seriously am not ready to let anything from this magical, Papillon world go. But for now, I say farewell and thank you all for sticking around and reading my story. I truly hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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